


And So It Went

by eff_reality, SuedeScripture



Series: Like Water [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Bar Room Brawl, Bets & Wagers, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Birthday Spanking, Campfire Games, Camping, Clubbing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Het and Slash, Loss/Grief, M/M, Mild D/s, Morning After, Multi, Never Have I Ever, POV Alternating, Phone Sex, Pre-Slash, Recreational Drug Use, Singing, Songfic, break-up, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 150,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/pseuds/eff_reality, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuedeScripture/pseuds/SuedeScripture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like Water 'verse, this part chronicling the first few months of filming LOTR. Dom and Billy meet, and with fits and starts, shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starts And Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the [Series Summary](http://archiveofourown.org/series/105608). This is a series originally posted elsewhere and without a definitive ending.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September, Manchester ~ 1999

“Come on, Meg. Don’t be like that.” Dom tossed another several cases into the recycling box and slid their respective CDs into the new plastic sleeves he’d added to the old binder.

“Like what?”

“Like that. Annoyed like that. At me,” Dom said, switching his mobile from one shoulder to the other. “It’s my job. That’s the idea, anyway.”

“Of course,” she said primly through the line. “It’s your job. Never mind you being away on the Continent for all of this month, including my birthday when you said you’d be here, and now you’re going off to Australia for a year–“

“New Zealand.” Dom closed the CD binder, and tried to zip it only to find he’d stuffed it too full. 

“Whatever. And you’ll be gone for how long?”

“A year and a half, they said.”

“Exactly. And you expect me to sit here and wait.”

Dom didn’t answer that. Meg had been great this last year. She was pretty and fun and sassy as hell and he loved her, sort of. This had easily been the longest actual relationship since he’d had his heart good and stomped on a few years earlier. All things considered, he didn’t expect her to wait for him, unless she really wanted to, and even then he wasn’t about to go blue-balling it that long, no matter how fun a girl she was.

“So that’s it, then,” she said after his substantial pause. Just like women, hearing things a bloke knew well enough not to say out loud.

He exhaled, left the binder on the bed and sat down next to it, scratching his naked, stubbly head. “I… I guess it is.”

He heard her sigh across the line, but she wasn’t crying, and she wasn’t yelling, so that was a point on his side at least. “You remember that night we drove out to the cliffs? That one night?”

She breathed a laugh and he heard her smile. “The night with the meteor shower?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, dropping back on his bed to look up at the ceiling. “Went out there to make out and got a free show.”

They were quiet for a while, just holding the connection and the company. Meg gave another long sigh. “It was good, for what it’s worth, Dommie. Just… when you go off and get yourself famous, remember who put up with you back in the day, eh? You know, once you start dating supermodels with legs up to their ears.”

“Right,” he huffed, “Around the same time I get my ugly mug on the cover of GQ.”

“Sure you will,” she said sardonically, “I guess I’ll see you at the cinema, then. Bye, Dom.”

“Meg,” he said, stalling. “I’ll be back at Christmas. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe. See you.”

The phone went to dial tone. He looked at it, then dropped the hand holding it to the bedspread. “Bye,” he murmured to the air. He wasn’t gutted over it this time, at least, but it stung nonetheless. 

There would be other girls, he was sure. Maybe even more, the glamour that he was in the country doing a big film, a real Hollywood blockbuster sort of film, luring the girls in. Maybe he’d find a great one there.

Maybe he’d come back at Christmas and beg Meg to take him back.

He hauled himself up after a few minutes, flipping open the binder and pulled out the new pages he’d stuffed into it, then pulled the cellophane off the brand new binder, adding the full sleeves to its empties. He wondered what new bands he could find in New Zealand, or if any of his co-stars would like his taste.

A knock sounded at the door and he went to let the movers in, surveying the litter of boxes filled with his things. He directed the movers what was to go where. Some boxes labeled to recycle, some to put in storage or to be piled in the back of his car to be shipped to New Zealand with him, and the rest of his scant furniture to give away or sell. His whole life spread out in a one bedroom flat. Five years after moving out, albeit not that far from his parent's house, here he was, starting over completely.

That’s what it was, now, with Meg having cut him loose. As the movers finished up and he left the key to the flat in his landlady's box before driving across town to stay with his parents for the night before he flew as far away from here as he could go, he felt like he had a completely clean slate, and an opportunity. Possibly the biggest opportunity he’d ever had and ever would have. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

He knew as much as he could know about what he was getting into. He knew he’d be working with giants in the industry, Holm and McKellen and Christopher Lee, all of them practically mythical to any up-and-coming British actor. He knew Peter Jackson was a gamble, called a visionary or a crackpot depending on who you talked to. He knew the quintessential goonie Sean Astin was Sam and Elijah Wood got Frodo, the role he’d lost out on, and wasn’t sure how he felt about either. And he’d been told he’d work chiefly with Billy Boyd, a Scottish actor he’d never heard of and couldn’t find anyone who had.

That wasn’t something that typically unnerved him, working with someone he didn't know was par for the course. Except that having read the story, he felt he knew how close Merry and Pippin were meant to be, and how that had everything to do with their characters. It was a double-edged sword, really, having that knowledge of the material and hoping the casting department had the same thing in mind.

As he pulled his suitcases out of the boot, he eyed the “for sale” sign in the back window of his car, one of his first big purchases with his Hetty money. Now his dad would take care of selling it for him, as he just didn’t have time.

“Well, Dom, here you are,” he dad came out to help him bring his boxed up things to the garage. “All ready? Got everything?”

“Yeah,” He remembered his dad giving him _The Lord of the Rings_ for his fifteenth birthday, an old, fat clothbound hardcover with the edges frayed off, telling him about how when he was at university, he used to graffiti the bathrooms with “Frodo Lives!”, thinking he was so avant garde. His dad had grinned like a loon when he told him about the audition, and practically had a coronary when he actually got a part. Perhaps not the lead, but Dad hadn’t cared about that, he’d practically bounded with excitement while his mum just shook her head.

They dropped his suitcases in the guest room, and his father left him alone to shower and get ready for supper. He flopped down on the bed with a sigh. He’d called Meg before to seek comfort for his worries, but that wasn’t what he’d expected to happen. Ordinarily she was a sweet, laid back girl who was really very casual about things, but obviously this was something she could not let transpire the way Dom had so foolishly, almost romantically imagined. And it wasn’t just an end to a good relationship, it ended one that had allowed him to relearn a little trust in giving a little bit of his heart away for the first time in years. He pulled out his mobile again.

“Hello?”

“Meg.”

She sighed, almost irritated, “Dom.”

A certain, firm loneliness crept into him, “I just want to… ah,” he stuttered awkwardly, “Say thanks. Not for, you know… doing the hard bit, but thanks for being a cool girlfriend.”

“You are a sap, Monaghan,” she laughed.

“Yeah. I can be sometimes.”

“Anything else?” He could just see her neat eyebrow arching.

“I’ll miss you?” he tried.

“You’d better,” she said sternly, before letting her voice slip into the soft place he liked, “You know it’s better like this.”

“I know,” he smiled. “I’ll still miss you, though.”

“Pffft, not after Liv bloody Tyler looks at you with daddy’s cherry bomb lips,” she joked, “You know you want that.”

Dom gave a playful little growl, “You’d make a pass at that too, if you had a chance.”

“Maybe,” he could hear her smile. “You’re sweet, Dommie. But go have fun being a player… down under,” she pushed her accent somewhat south. “I’ll see you around, once you’re a famous actor and they get Harrison Ford to give you an Oscar. It might happen one day, you know, some of us think you’re good enough. Just give it time.”

“My dreams all out in the open,” he smiled. “Don’t go spreading those around. Not the Oscar bit, but the Harrison Ford bit. He could give me an empty McDonalds drink cup and I’d cherish it forever. Do you think he eats at McDonalds?”

“I’ve got to go, Dom," she dodged, "Love ya.”

“You too,” He rung off, feeling better. In twenty-four hours time, he’d be in a whole different world, starting a whole new chapter in his life. He dug his latest journal from his carry on and a biro pen from his pocket, flipping to the next clean page.


	2. The Day We All Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September, Wellington ~ 1999

Dom dawdled over breakfast of blueberry waffle and orange juice in his hotel room. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have eaten off the hotel’s menu, opting instead to search out a local dive, but this bright, spring morning in Wellington, a car was being sent to collect him and bring him to the studio, where he’d be meeting the people he’d be working with for the foreseeable future. People who had already been through their initial meet-and-greet bit and settled in with each other, and here he was coming to disrupt that balance. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous.

Fran Walsh had met him at the airport and settled him in to the hotel the previous evening. He’d met her once before, in London at that fortuitous second audition, he’d belatedly realized. He barely remembered her, soft spoken as she was, and felt a bit guilty that he’d engaged more with Jackson and the casting director on that occasion. But last night she’d been sweet and welcoming and quite a comfort to one stumbling off such a long flight, taking care of such trivial things as checking him in and making sure he was fed before leaving him to rest up with several brochures of flats in the area to choose from when he was ready.

After finishing the food and brushing his teeth, he looked his reflection over again in the mirrored closet door, clad as he was in cargo shorts and a Man U tee, and resisted poking at a spot on his chin. He scratched over his head, the hair sprouting there barely enough to prickle now, knowing full well he did not look much like that old headshot anymore. He poked around in his bag, locating the canvas bucket hat he’d taken to wearing and pulling it over the tips of his ears when the phone rang, the concierge informing him his car was waiting.

As he looked out the windows of the sleek sedan, getting a taste of Wellington’s bright urban sprawl, his nerves still wouldn’t settle. It felt very much as it always had when he was a boy, moving cities every few years and going to a new school, the necessity of making a swift and hopefully good first impression. Today he’d be meeting a real goonie, after all. Not all of the cast would be there, but still, the main four he knew he’d work with most would be, and it was with them he hoped to at least have a good professional bond.

“Hey mate, could we find a sweet shop on the way?” he leaned forward to ask the driver.

.

Billy grimaced as he approached the costume room. There'd been something kicking around in his stomach since he'd gotten out of bed that morning, something he hadn't felt since his first real morning here: anxiety. In addition to doing their first preliminary screen tests, he'd finally be meeting Dominic, the Merry to his Pippin, his future partner in crime, who'd remained elusive for these first two weeks, off in France shooting a miniseries or something.

He'd vaguely remembered Dominic from that "Hetty" show, a kind of funny-looking kid with clothing he couldn't fill and haircuts that didn't really suit him. Billy had, admittedly, gone online more than once to check out what he'd done and what he'd been doing. After about an hour of hunting one night, months back, he'd finally been able to download a brief video of a scene from Hetty, something that probably didn't showcase Dominic to his best advantage but that was enough to get a sense of his presence.

That scene had been shot years before, though, and Billy knew enough to not rely too heavily on it for an impression of Dominic as an actor or a person; by now, Dominic was at least a few years older and had probably gone through worlds of change in that time. Still, that persistent image of him with gelled hair and a crooked, awkward grin danced in Billy's head even now.

He still had his worries about whether or not Dominic would be right for Merry, trust Pete though he did, and if they would be right for each other. He feared for their chemistry, both onscreen and off (he'd learned by now that those two things were often interchangeable)—there were so many years between them. Billy didn't really have faith that they'd have much to talk about.

On the other hand, he'd gotten along quite well with Orlando, who was around Dominic's age and couldn't have been more different from Billy, in every which way, and even with Elijah, who was a Yank and a barely bloody legal one at that.

If Billy were honest with himself, though, it was mostly the fear of the project as a whole that was fluttering its way through his lower intestine. For the first two weeks, it'd been easy to pretend this whole trip was just that: a trip. There'd been a script meeting or two, a character meeting with Pete, but really, they all hadn't done much beyond getting settled and getting around town for some sightseeing. It'd been easy to pretend he was just on some really luxurious vacation. But now it was time to really start to work in earnest, and yeah, he was scared.

He was grateful to see both Orlando and Sean's smiling faces when he opened the door.

Orlando had his shirt off and his denims halfway down his legs. "Oi! You're supposed to knock first!"

"Nothing I haven't seen," Billy smiled, then glanced around at everyone. "Morning."

"Billy, look at this." Sean corralled Orlando stumbling under his arm and smoothed a hand over his chest. "He has no body hair. Not a single hair."

Billy raked his eyes over Orlando and made an impressed face.

"I keep telling him I don't wax, but he won't believe me." Orlando nearly fell on his arse as he wrested his way out of Sean's grip and hopped the rest of the way out of his trousers.

Billy smiled wide, his nerves instantly calming considerably. He wasn't in this alone.

.

A light chuckle left Dom's throat as the car pulled into the carpark. Dom had been to studios before: Shepperton, Pinewood, he'd even toured Universal on a family holiday to Los Angeles. This did not have quite the same feel to it. It was large and sprawling, yes, but with a few big nondescript warehouse-type buildings and many smaller ones, and rather little in the way of security: a common chain link fence and a couple of guards strolling around eating sandwiches. His driver might have taken a wrong turning into a typical industrial park.

Waving his thanks for the ride, he searched through his rucksack for the folder Fran had given him for the map of the complex. He signed in, flirting a bit with the gal at the desk before she told him the rest were meeting in the costuming area. His map directed him to one of those portable buildings places got when they out grew the ones they already had.

Chuckling again, he jogged up the steps and opened the door, poking around and following the sounds of voices and laughter until he found four guys in various states of undress. Two he recognized, Sean Astin, wearing a white undervest and shorts, and Elijah Wood peeling a shirt off, his hair sticking up every which way. Another taller, unfairly fit and attractive bloke wore nothing but kecks and a dazzling grin as he trapped the fourth in his own shirtsleeves, his face caught beneath the cotton. That's him, his mind supplied obviously, Billy Boyd.

"Oh," Dom said with false embarrassment, tugging an ear beneath his hat, "I was looking for the _Virgin Elves: Part Three_ porno shoot. This... doesn't seem like the right room."

.

From underneath his own shirt, Billy heard Sean instantly come forward. "Hi, Dominic?" Insert handshake here. "Nice to meet you. Sean."

"Let me out of here, you great ponce!" he shouted at Orlando, more for effect than out of genuine frustration. He felt Orlando promptly release his sleeves and pulled his shirt off the rest of the way with a great sigh. He gave Dominic a goofy, wide-eyed grin, feeling a bit bashful to be meeting him for the first time this way. Dominic's eyes darted to Orlando as they shook hands, and Billy took the brief moment to take in the predictably lanky lad. Still a bit awkward, but more sure of himself than he'd been on Hetty—and he'd grown into his face a bit more. Fucking intense eyes, though, which was something Billy couldn't have predicted; Hetty hadn't been too glamorously lit, he supposed.

He came forward, balled up shirt in one hand and the other extended confidently. "You're almost in the right place. This is The Virgin Elf. First installment in the series. This is him." Billy gestured at Orlando with a flourish.

.

"Piss off, I was just starting out my career," Orlando gave Billy a good natured shove, shaking Dom's hand.

"Ah," Dom grinned, shaking Billy's hand, but his eyes drew back the boundless energy of the darker man who would play their Elf. He was shockingly good looking, bright and excited, and new. Dom could see it all over him. "I guess that means the one to be deflowered is... someone else." He flicked his eyes to Elijah, all boyish peachfuzz skin and traces of baby fat still clinging. Elijah raised his brow, lifted his chin and blurted, "Fuck you."

Dom laughed, giving the kid a brief hug, "'S alright, mate, we already know about you and the dolphin." He rubbed his palms over Elijah's scrawny shoulders as he pulled back, grinning as Elijah swore at him again, and patted his cheek, "Shite, you're like a little peach. No wonder I didn't get the part."

He brought his eyes round to Billy Boyd, his Pippin. "Right then," he said speculatively, looking him over with overemphasized appraisal. He was a compact man, small and tidy, except for the staticky hair from the t-shirt debacle, which sprung wacky gingery flips this way and that. His face was rather common, typically Celtic features Dom was used to seeing day to day. Compared to someone like Orlando or Elijah, he certainly didn't stand out in a room. This only peaked his curiosity on how Boyd arrived on this shoot, and what about him had so impressed Peter, but he didn't want to come off like he was doubtful. He hugged Billy as well, "I guess you'll do in a pinch."

"So they said you flew in from France? That you had work there?" Sean asked. It was clear he was trying to start and hold the conversation.

"I went home for a bit first, but yeah, just wrapped up a project there," Dom set his rucksack down on a chair, pulling several lollipops from a pocket and holding them out to everyone. Candy had always been a means to making himself liked in a new situation, and this didn't disappoint as everyone paused in stripping down to collect. He swiped off his hat, rubbing self consciously at his head a bit before tugging his t-shirt off himself. Who knew being the only clothed bloke in a room of skivvies felt awkward.

In another room he could hear a disturbance through the walls, someone bellyaching about something or another, and leaned over to the open door to try and see. Another man in the adjacent room was walking around amongst racks of costumes, complaining about something riding up somewhere in the leather breeches he sported. Dom looked back up at Sean and grinned cheekily, "How's One Eyed Willy and the caveman?"

.

"They're good," Sean replied through the start of a laugh while fussing at a pair of trousers, though Billy knew from the first week that Sean quickly grew tired of references to his old films, love them though he did. Sean was more than a bit uptight, but he was good-hearted and Billy liked him.

He noticed Elijah watching Dominic speculatively, already on the defensive, fully prepared to launch some more choice words at him if he so much as mentioned _Huck Finn_ or _North_ or _The Good Son_ or—Christ, he had a lot to contend with, didn't he?

Billy watched with mild interest as Dominic turned his back to shuck his shorts. He had to admit, clothing didn't really do him justice. Beneath Dominic's shirt, the lines of his body were rough and edgy, nothing like Orlando's but still impossible to not look at in their own way, still boyish but much more lean and sinewy than Elijah who, as Dominic had so aptly put it, was like a soft little peach.

Even with the easy way Dominic had wrapped his arms around him—and everyone else—Billy still couldn't decide if he was annoyed or enchanted by his cockiness. He probably knew he had a great body.

"They're back at my flat with your girl, actually," Billy chimed in before popping the lolli Dominic had gifted in his mouth.

.

"Right, mine, yours and that guy's girl too. What's his rag?" Dom glanced out to the other room again, listening to the guy snap at the young Kiwi seamstress about the tightness of the groin, and her quite rightly snapping back that the breeches had been made to his measurements, so maybe they'd been wrong. He couldn't quite remember the actor's name, but he didn't fit Dom's personal idea of Aragorn. He was too small, too young, and when he turned and caught Dom watching, too intensely serious. Dom lifted his chin at him in wary greeting, still brazenly staring, and got a sneer for his trouble.

Quirking a brow, he puffed a breath of disconnect, bringing his attention back around to the others and unwrapped his own orange lolli, looking again at Billy. He had a keenness to his eyes, Dom could feel them on him, even as Billy appeared outwardly casual.

"Right, everyone here?" another older woman called just as he was about to speak again, knocking on the door as she came in and looked not at all unnerved by five guys in boxers. "You'll be Dom? Ngila," she said briskly, her eyes cataloguing his frame rather than his face. "Christ, but you are a rake. The tummy Pete asked us for may not even be enough, you might need a whole body suit underneath. Sean, you come dress first, then, we've let your trousers out a bit more. If Pete fattens you up the way he wants, I'll run out of seams."

.

The rest of them exchanged a look at Dom's query, a look that was quickly becoming the international symbol for _Stuart's a Giant Prick_. They'd have to give him a heads up about that later.

Dom smiled guiltily at Ngila's observation, scrutinizing his tum for a moment as Sean lumbered out of the room looking none-too-pleased with the idea of gaining more weight. Billy came forward again, pulling the lolli from his mouth, this time with a friendly smile. "Don't worry—one week at the pubs with us and you'll be set." He patted his own stomach for emphasis, and it rippled ever so slightly; that pesky bit of meat he never could get rid of, no matter how far he ran or how many sit-ups he did. (Not that he tried all that hard. Or cut down on drinking enough to see if that might help.)

"So you're from Manchester, then?" Billy offered, darting a glance at Orlando, who perked up at talk of home. Elijah still sat a ways apart, big magnificent eyes slightly slitted as he chewed his nails.

.

"Yeah," Dom smiled back at Billy, looking him over again and clapping his shoulder. "I'm in for tonight, then."

He ducked out of the room now that the diva had grumpily followed Sean, looking through the racks of clothes and testing the textures between his fingers. Orlando followed and Billy lingered in the doorway, keeping Elijah company.

"I'm from Canterbury, but my family are from all over really," Orlando told him, pulling out a velvet trimmed cloak and draped it over his naked shoulders. "I've been in Hampstead for ages though, for drama school. You? Where'd you go?"

Dom shot a crooked grin back at Billy for Orlando's ridiculous enthusiasm. "Aquinas."

"Monaghan, if I find any sticky fingerprints on my garments–" Ngila was watching him with slitted eyes as Sean came out in a blouse and trousers that now looked too loose, held up by braces.

"I didn't touch anything!" Dom put both hands and eyebrows up, even the the lolli stick in his mouth was a dead giveaway, and pointed at Orlando, "Note the elven queen in the room!"

"You brought in the bloody candy," Ngila supplied, arching a brow. "Don't think I didn't notice. No sticky fingers on my clothes or I'll have you wash them out."

Orlando guiltily rehung the cloak, and Dom strode cheekily back to Billy, making a whipping motion with the appropriate sound effect, as he leaned against the wall beside him, tonguing his candy to the opposite side of his mouth. "What're your colors, since we're all sizing each other up?"

.

"RSAMD," Billy smiled. "Don't ask me the full name, I can't remember it," he exhaled heavily, momentarily feeling the weight of the years that had passed since drama school, and all the years that came before. He felt the familiar sensation of something closing inside him. He hadn't been too forthcoming with anyone here about what that experience had been like, not yet; it was too tightly knitted with certain other milestones, more personal than professional. He sincerely hoped Dom wouldn't start in, not yet.

"Feels like ages ago," he said honestly. "'S a blur of tears, fencing, and black jumpsuits."

His eyes roved Dom's features, now that they had the privilege of such proximity. That they were nearly the same exact height certainly didn't hurt. What an interesting face, Billy thought, quickly feeling more intrigued and worlds more comfortable. Despite their obvious differences in personality, Billy already recognized Dominic as a kind of kin, more so than the others, anyway. He almost felt like one of his mates from home had been plucked out of the bindery and dropped right in front of him, only cheekier, much younger, and considerably more attention-hungry. Not to mention the silly accent.

"Fencing!" Orlando shouted with a touch of wistfulness. "I miss it! Can't wait to get started on swordplay."

"I can't believe they're letting you near sharp objects," Billy jibed good-naturedly. Orlando lunged forward to whip him with a shirt, and he dodged it, laughing as he defended his point. "You nearly broke your back, you crazy bastard!"

.

"Not nearly. I did break it, check the scar out," Orlando turned, proudly showing the results of that. "Add to that my nose and my head. More than once."

"That explains a lot," Dom laughed. He hadn't done a lot of real hardcore things like fencing in drama school, but then Aquinas wasn't one of those schools that focused exclusively on it, not like the RSAMD. Dom knew the whole name and was more than a little impressed that his costar had that kind of training.

"I hope we have time to do some fun stuff between filming, you know?" Orlando continued wistfully, "I heard the boarding in the Remarkables is amazing. And I read about this place you can take dirtbikes, you know motorcross or ATVs, s'pose to be killer runs."

Dom crunched up the rest of his sucker between his teeth, glancing over his shoulder at Elijah, "How about you, Peach? Want to go bungee jumping?"

"Shit, yeah," Elijah stood up, coming over, "If I can."

"What d'you mean?"

Elijah looked at the floor. "I'm not really suppose to. You know. Do anything that could potentially kill me. Contractual liability sort of thing."

Dom looked at him, and Elijah stood there and let him. This was the kid who'd beat him out for the lead, with all his wide-eyed, practically fey looks. That on top of considerably more experience, something that made Dom squirm a little, that the three of them were sitting on top of their drama school props while this kid had walked into a music video audition and came out of it with a fully fledged career longer than any of them could boast. One he was good at, and with some of the most well respected people in the business. Okay, so Dom had looked him up, and when he did, he had to concede. He just hoped it would be worth it.

"Well, they've got me as a back up if you die, yeah?" he grinned cheekily as he pitched his candy stick toward a bin.

.

"You're all fucking crazy," Billy shook his head, rifling through a bunch of shirts and trousers Ngila had left behind, ostensibly for him from the looks of the sizes. "I like being alive, thanks very much."

Orlando actually looked surprised—and a bit wounded. "You wouldn't come, Bill?"

"Nah." He turned, shaking out a shirt and sliding his arm through a sleeve. "Sorry, sweetheart: afraid of heights." The shiny, puckered track of Orlando's scar danced in his head.

"That's the point, man!" Orlando hopped over and tugged at Billy's collar playfully. "Overcome your fear. It'll be like a rite of passage."

Billy smiled at the chocolatey warmth and excitement in his friend's eyes. He could almost taste it. "Ah, but then if I overcome the fear, then what's the point of having the fear in the first place? Life's not worth living without fear, eh?" He turned to Dom and smiled.

"Life's not worth living without fear." Elijah walked over to one of the vanity mirrors, rummaging for a pen and paper. "I need to write that down."

.

"I can do you one better," Dom said, grabbing his jeans up from the chair to retrieve the pen from the pocket, handing it to Elijah, " _Living is easy with eyes closed._ "

" _Misunderstanding all you see_ ," Elijah's face lit up. "Strawberry Fields. You're into the Beatles?"

"Are there people who aren't?" Dom grinned, "What else do you listen to?"

"Dude," Elijah still wrote Billy's line down on the edge of a sheaf of paper, "I like so much stuff. The Ramones, The Cure, The Who–"

"The The?" Dom asked.

"Yes!" Elijah beamed back, high-fiving him. "Shit, I hope you brought your CDs."

"Mate," Dom laughed, "I couldn't live on the other side of the bloody world for this long without them. I brought four whole binders in my luggage and my mum's supposed to mail out the rest. Two boxes full at least."

"I think they just bonded," Orlando leaned in to Billy, who was stepping into a pair of trousers that were quite short in the calf.

"What about you, Bill?" Dom asked, smiling, "Did you bring some music?"

.

There was a collective exhale in that small space between the four of them, an unraveling of sorts as they all started getting settled in with each other in earnest. Billy stumbled under Orlando's heavy affection and felt himself grow a bit hot.

"Billy didn't need to bring music! He's going to make his own," Orlando stage-whispered with a violent rub to Billy's head.

Billy mock-glared at him as he worked at the button-fly on his trousers.

Elijah smacked him on the arm, on the verge of a conniption. "What?"

"He had a mysterious guitar case with him on the plane," Orlando clarified.

"What the fuck? I didn't see it in your flat."

Billy sputtered and Dom made an incredulous face at the sound of the word _flat_ coming from Elijah's mouth.

"He's hiding it in his bedroom closet," Orlando said proudly. Billy's jaw dropped. "I went snooping last weekend. I don't get why it has to be such a big secret, man—are you a really famous pop star in Scotland or something?"

"No," Billy shrugged, hating the attention, especially with someone new there. "Some friends and I were in a band back home. We get together and play every once in a while, just for fun."

.

Dom accepted his own wardrobe from Ngila as she bustled over, holding up his hands palms out to prove they weren't sticky.

"Right," Orlando ruffled Billy's hair. "Which explains you eyeballing that Schecter bass over at Musicworks for twenty minutes the other day. And the mouth organ you bought when you thought I wasn't paying attention."

Dom watched all this speculatively. He dabbled on various instruments a bit himself, mostly just guitar and piano, but was fully aware he wasn't any good at it and not terribly intent on getting better. But he simply could not get by for a year and more without his entire CD collection. Only a man who played with some seriousness would have brought his guitar with him to a multiple location shoot. And also bought a harmonica within the first few weeks. And considered purchasing a bass in the same breath, if Orlando was truthful.

Billy shoved Orlando off, meeting Dom's eyes with a near bashful shrug as he got the front placket of his trousers done up. Dom gave him an interested eyebrow; there would have to be more in-depth talks about that. Music was a talent he didn't have himself, so people who did were always fascinating.

"I want to hear you play something," Elijah said, also appraisingly. "Because dude, I gotta say, I've yet to meet an actor who was decent in a band. I mean, look at Keanu Reeves and Russell Crowe. Fuck's sake."

Dom snorted agreement, picking up the belly strap thing he was meant to wear beneath his shirt, trying to figure out how it went on. He held it up to his tum, "What am I, do you think? Five, six months knocked up? Think I'll name it Guinness."

.

"Who's the father?" Orlando chortled. Elijah still lingered by Billy, obviously with a slew of more questions on the way.

"His name's Glen. Glen Livet," Billy deadpanned, glad for the distraction, but Elijah wouldn't let him get away that easily.

"Seriously, though: you have to play for us. Tonight!" He hit Billy a couple more times, as if that would convince.

"Just get him good and pissed. Then he'll do anything." Orlando winked at Billy. "Learned that on the plane, too."

"Stop making it sound like I blew you in the toilet," Billy smiled warmly, remembering the tiny bottles of champagne and his own proposition to the flight attendant (on Orlando's dare). Elijah stood stubbornly at his side, a pout ready to surface. "Fine, the next time we're in my flat," he mimicked Lij's accent, "I'll play something for you." He glanced up at Dom, who was still looking at the belly strap quizzically.

Billy strode over. "Here, let me help." As he fastened the snaps at Dom's back, his fingers brushed his spine and jumped a bit, startled. "Do you've a furnace under there as well? Christ, you're warm."

.

"Yeah," Dom chuckled a bit, tugging the belly where it should hang before bending to get the trousers on. Just that move had it bunch and slip farther up his middle, out of position.

By the time he buttoned his shirt around it and tucked it in to the trousers he had to undo the buttons to fix it again. "I don't think this is going to work," he murmured a little nervously to no one in particular, then catching Billy's eye again with a smile, "If I move it slides up and I look like I've got granny tits."

But Ngila had chosen that moment to come back with Elijah's things, but she let her stern demeanor slip to laugh. "You're absolutely right. You're going to need a body suit, then. Ridiculous, but. You're sure you can't gain it?"

"Well, I can always eat more, but I can't make it stick," Dom grinned.

"Wish I could have a fat suit," Sean moped, having watched all this from behind as the young seamstress stuck pins at various places in his trousers.

"You have one, mate," Orlando said jovially. "Built in."

Sean only pouted further. "You should have seen me six months ago. I mean, I didn't look like... like you, but I looked as close to like you as I'll ever get."

"Dominic, out here then," Ngila gestured him to the bigger room, "Take those off and have Wendy get the extra measurements on you. It'll probably have to be like a one piece swimsuit."

Dom pulled off the shirt and trousers, and unsnapped the belly strap, holding it out to Billy with a trembling lip and false anguish, "Give it to Glen for me. Our love was so true."

He ducked through to meet the seamstress, Wendy, who was not only very pretty, but he appreciated the sass she given the grumpy bloke earlier. "Hi," he smiled. "I'm Dom, giving you more work than you needed. Did you make all these things?"

.

Billy shook his head, listening as Dom flirted shamelessly with Wendy. Not that he didn't do the same, but he liked to think the Scottish accent better concealed any truly lecherous intentions. He shot an amused look at Orlando and Elijah, and they responded in kind, though Elijah did so a bit more tentatively. Billy supposed it would take a little while for him to get used to Dom's somewhat rough Manc demeanor.

It was quickly becoming obvious to Billy, though, that all that bravado was put-on or at least exaggerated for just this occasion. Being the last to arrive was no small thing; Dom had to ease the possible stumbles of that transition somehow. Even as he drawled cheeky comebacks, he seemed totally preoccupied, his body language restless.

For the millionth time since getting here, Billy thanked his lucky stars (of which there were many, these days) that he wouldn't have to undergo some huge transformation for the films. Well, not more than the wig and the makeup and the infamous feet, the process for which the makeup people had done an excellent job of keeping a secret. It never ceased to surprise him that at thirty-one, he'd be tapped to play such a youthful role. Doing it in theatre was one thing—on a distant stage, you can project almost anything—but film was something else. He often wondered when he would start to show his age, if ever. As it was, no one believed him when he revealed how old he was.

At that very moment, Ngila walked her way back over to him and wrapped a colorful houndstooth scarf around his neck with a flourish. She stepped back. "There. You nearly look the part already."

.

Dom looked up as Ngila put her hands on her hips, and Billy smiled as he tugged on the fringes of scarf. Even from this small distance, and the meager advantage of the stool where he stood, he had a different viewpoint of that costume. The high watered trousers over bare (and not yet hairy) feet, the embroidered shirt and bright sack coat complementing Billy's gingery hair.

Dom had of course seen Bakshi's Lord of the Rings films, as well as art from various illustrators. He had a rather fond, if unrelated memory of time spent in his dad's office as a kid, where he had a Tolkien calendar on the wall by the Hildebrandts. He'd again flipped through his old edition of the book, paying particular attention to Alan Lee's illustrations, when he'd learned the artist was actually on this project as well. These costumes were clearly inspired, yet uniquely theirs, and he appreciated that.

Wendy finished up with her tape, jotting notes on an abused steno pad, and Dom hopped down, coming back to Billy. "Look at you," he said happily turning him by the shoulders. The sack coat somehow made him look even younger, giving the impression of perhaps a teenager that had borrowed his father's jacket. He ran the soft scarf through his fingers. "Do I get one of these?"

"No, you've got a waistcoat there," Ngila answered, "Go on, you might as well try it all on, be sure the shoulders and everything fit."

Dom grinned at Billy again before darting over to hop into the trousers again. Shirt, braces and the brightly colored waistcoat, he was quick to notice his own jacket was far more complicated in its tailoring than even Elijah's.

"Merry's a fashionable sort, you know, a dandy," Dom told them haughtily, covering a snort when he saw Orlando wearing what looked like silvery tights and a night shirt. "Not that dandy, but you know. Elves."

"Piss off!" Orlando shot back, one hand clutching a suede tunic while the other no so surreptitiously tried to tug the leggings out of his arse.

.

Billy fidgeted with the ends of his Pippin sleeves, already beginning to feel the part. He watched Dom examine the details of his own costume in the mirror. His passion for the trilogy was certainly starting to show, and that was something Billy had to admire. As someone who hadn't yet gotten through all the books for the first time, he had a lot to learn.

"Hold on a sec," he murmured as he walked over to straighten out a bit of Dom's jacket that had gotten all mucked up in the back. "There."

They both looked into the mirror at the pair of they made, side by side, and smiled. Dom surprised him again by slinging his arm companionably about his shoulders. After a moment, Billy rested a hand at the center of Dom's back. For someone he'd only just met, this small affection felt familiar. He lowered his voice, turning his face ever so slightly toward Dom's, eyes still trained on their reflection. "Do we look related yet, do you think?"

.

Dom studied their reflections. The clothes were fun in their historical nature, and in the just slightly exaggerated way they were cut. They were relatively simple, but jaunty. Things Dom had felt was typical of Merry and Pippin, at least in the beginning. It ratcheted up his excitement. The clothes felt right.

He looked over Billy in the reflection as well, a second, closer look taking in features that were simple too, not excessive, neat and bright, almost elfin – not in Tolkien's way, but the more mischievous, unexpected, puckish sort of elf. And that felt right too.

Dom turned to look at him fully, noticing the peridot color of his eyes, and the lines that only at this range betrayed that he might be older than he looked. He looked back at their reflections, propped one leg across the other and pocketed his free hand.

"Fool of a Took," he grinned. "This is going to be so much fun."

.

Billy felt the vibrations of Dom's voice close to his ear, and his smile stretched wide and bright at how comfortable that felt too. This was happening, wasn't it?

"We need to bond," Billy decided aloud, clapping him on the back. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "We should get lunch. Today. With beer." Dom blinked at him. "On me," he added.

.

"There's the clencher," Dom grinned wider, ruffling the hair on the back of Billy's head, still wacky as it had been when it popped out of his shirt.

His insides wriggled around with anticipation of all this, still looking Billy over, getting used to his face. Virtually everything about him was a mystery, but his casual ease and wit made him hard not to like, and Dom wanted to know more. More about that guitar, and his school days, and how he managed to get tangled up in a supposedly unfilmable thing like this. Of all the guys (barring the one continuing to chuck a fit from the other dressing room), Billy seemed to have arrived here by some bizarre stroke of luck and chance, not unlike Dom himself.

"When is lunch? Where is lunch? Clearly, I'm not fat enough."

.

"Beer? Did somebody say beer?" Elijah piped up, eyes going wide.

Billy broke away from Dom. "Lij, d'you know what the schedule is today? We're going to get lunch, maybe downtown."

"After this, I think we have meetings with Pete 'til noon. Can I come?"

"Sorry," Billy grimaced, wrangling Dom by the neck. "I'm kidnapping him for the afternoon. It's my right." Dom grinned a ridiculous grin from underneath his arm. "But we all should take him out tonight, properly." He tightened his grip on Dom playfully, and Dom feigned losing his oxygen admirably.

.

Dom yawned in the back of the cab he shared with Billy, still reeling a bit from the morning. Aside from the several costumes he'd tried on, a few still in an unfinished state, they'd walked through one of the bigger warehouses and he'd caught sight of some miniatures that were so big they had their own rooms, with six or seven people working on them at once. There were sketches everywhere of anything from architecture to knick-knacks to dress sets with. People scurried around on little missions, not just dozens, but hundreds of them, like ants in a colony. Suddenly this all felt very big and very real.

And when he, Billy, and the rest of them were shuffled in to speak with Pete, he spoke at length about each character and their emotional progressions, how they would grow and change, Dom's excitement was almost on a constant high.

When he turned to looked at Billy again, he was surprised and impressed with the relaxed grin he got back, as if being in something as huge as this happened to him everyday. His stomach growled loud, and he laughed. "So what's good to eat here? With beer?"

.

"Ehm, I haven't gotten the chance to explore as much as I'd like to," Billy said thoughtfully. "Spent most of the first week sleeping," he admitted with an embarrassed laugh as he watched the storefronts and restaurants go by. "The Hotel Bristol's good. Lij and I went there one of the first days. There's outdoor seating," he offered, glancing up through the window at the sunny sky.

"'S not too far from here. We can get out up ahead and walk it, if you want."

Dom nodded, probably amenable to anything that would bring them closer to food. Billy smirked, scooching up to tell the driver where to pull over and pay him. He shot Dom a promising grin as he slid through the door. "If it doesn't meet with your approval, there's plenty of other places to go."

The shock of the bright air and the noise around them made Billy suddenly apprehensive; what if they didn't have anything to talk about? Still, he was glad he'd extended the invitation. It would undoubtedly be easier for Dom to let down his guard with just him than with all of them all at once.

.

"I'm good with whatever."

The outdoor mall, like much of the small portion of the city he'd seen, was well kept and updated, lined with many restaurants and shops of several types. Dom took in the city as they walked the distance, passing an unusual fountain on the way with a quirked brow and a grin. Already he could tell this was where people came to hang out and have fun, and likely a place with which he and these guys would become intimately familiar.

They arrived at the place Billy'd suggested, and Dom immediately approved: it was very much a traditional British pub with plenty of beer on tap. They sat outside at a shaded table, and a quick look at the menu told him the food would be good old fashioned pub grub as well.

The waiter took their drink orders and let them be with the menus, and Dom inhaled hugely, holding it in before letting it go comically. Billy smiled knowingly at his expression. "That was sort of intense, yeah?" He sat back in his chair and shook his head in bemusement, referring to their morning and the enormity of it all. "I felt a bit like I couldn't open my eyes wide enough to see everything. Need a pair like Elijah's."

.

"I know," Billy said, eyes wide even now. "I'm still not convinced that I'm here, you know?" He watched Dom give a nod in empathy, overwhelmed; he hadn't even been here long enough to get to that point, Billy supposed. "'S probably even weirder coming in a bit late like this," he conceded. "But really, so much of it has been us getting settled and getting to know the area. You haven't missed too much." Billy gave Dom a reassuring smile.

The drinks arrived, and Billy took the quiet moment to take Dom in again, much like he had in the costume room earlier. In the sunlight, his eyes were a light blue, and sweeter than they'd looked upon his first arrival. They darted around with a mixture of excitement, apprehension, and curiosity, his fingers drumming on the table in counterpoint. Billy noted his own relative quiescence and smiled. Maybe they really would be the perfect match.

"So. Dominic Monaghan," he took a drink, then placed his pint down with finality. "Tell me your life story."

.

Dom laughed, taking another gulp and humming in approval. "My life story. Well, the abridged version. I was born in Berlin. My parents—my dad teaches science and my mum's a nurse, and they always had itchy feet, you know. So we'd move every few years, around Germany before I guess they missed England and we came back to Manchester. We've been there since I was twelve."

He paused, watching Billy take that in. He knew a lot of people found it unusual.

.

Billy smiled, surprised and intrigued by Dom's beginning. As he'd suspected, they were both born from working class parents. But Billy hadn't had the privilege of living in another country, though his parents did their best taking he and his sister on holiday.

"That's incredible. D'you still speak German? Teach me something." Dom gave him a strange look. "How would I say..." Billy glanced down at the menu. "I'll have the Bristol burger with a side of kumara chips. And extra pickles," he challenged. "And I know the German word for cock, so don't try slipping that by me." Billy took the perfect beat, the clarified: "The word, I mean."

.

Dom momentarily chewed his lip before rattling it off, " _Ich möchte einen Bristol-Burger mit zusätzlicher Essiggurke. Mit Kumara_." He chuckled, "That might be a little shady around the verbs, it's been awhile. We didn't speak it at home much, so English was still my first language."

Billy smiled, looking suitably appeased. Dom laughed again, "I actually got teased a lot for my accent. Brits tend to soften German quite a bit."

The waiter came back around for their orders, and Dom did order the Bristol burger, but in English. "Without extra pickles," he shot Billy a sly look. "Just the regular amount."

.

Billy laughed, then backtracked thoughtfully as the waiter left them. "Yeah, come to think of it, your German does sound very soft." It was true: Dom's voice, which was already quite lulling, softened the consonants and stretched the vowels into something soothing, regardless of what the words they combined to make actually meant.

"I'm terrible at languages," Billy admitted regretfully. "I studied French in school and picked up a few Italian phrases from my sister after she'd been abroad there for a while, but I can't remember anything now. My father used to slip in a Gaelic word or two every once in a while, especially if he was telling a story. But that's about it." He happily took another sip of beer. "Did they tease you in Manchester for speaking German when you moved over?" he half-joked.

.

"Not for the German," Dom laughed, remembering, "But my British accent was all over the place by then; a little RP, a little Midland from my mum, and I picked up Scouse too, from The Beatles. Kind of a mess. I had to work to be a Mancunian."

He took another drink, noting what Billy had said, "You have a sister, then? I've got a brother, Matt. He's a year older. He plays guitar too, actually."

He grinned, happy to have segued back to Billy's supposed secret talent, "When did that start, then? Playing music? What was your childhood like?"

.

Billy expelled a big breath. What a loaded question. Of course, Dom didn't know; he couldn't. Billy hadn't expected the question to be so general. He'd expected a series of small queries, something along the lines of How old is your sister? What does she do? What did your parents do? How do they feel about you being an actor?

"Alright, let's see if I can remember all of those. My sister's Maggie, she's two years older. She's back in Glasgow with her family. She's a hairdresser." He took a generous gulp of beer, steeling himself. "My da' had a guitar. Before my sister and I were born, he used to play in bands all the time, sing and all that. When I was old enough to hold it in my lap, he taught me a few chords. I didn't really think much of it, it was just for fun. I was more into acting at the time, anyway. He and my mum always encouraged that, which is amazing, especially looking back on it now. It wasn't very common where I grew up, especially for young boys. They were great."

He looked out at the street, squinting at the sun. "They both died when I was young. So who knows if that support would've lasted, but." He shrugged sadly.

.

Dom's stomach dropped out at Billy's last sentence, and it was as unexpected a reaction as it was an answer to a question that had been for all intents casual and noninvasive, or so he thought. He couldn't help but stare, studying this man even further with this new understanding.

For having a major part in what was going to be a record breaking film (at least in terms of length, scope and probably cost, even if it flopped horribly), Billy almost looked like a bloke who stumbled in by accident. He was so ordinary, sort of a common man. Dom could imagine him driving a bus or sitting in an office cubicle somewhere. Which was very stereotypical of him to think, and he silently chastised himself for it, feeling uncomfortable with whether he was meant to apologize for bringing it up, for the loss itself, and so on. Part of him suspected Billy might be used to this chilly silence after this inquiry, and was giving him the time to recollect himself.

"Man, that's... that's rough," he murmured, pushing his pint around on its mat. Billy brought his eyes back to him, his expression quiet and internal, yet simultaneously accepting.

There were many questions Dom wanted to ask. How old he'd been when it happened, what happened to him and his sister afterwards, what his parents had been like. But as centered and resigned with it as Billy projected, now any personal question seemed like it could be out of line.

Dom searched his face again. "I don't know how old you are. I'm usually good with reading that about people, but you're different. You're playing someone younger than me, but you're a bit older, by a few years, I think. Am I right?"

.

Billy briefly recalled the afternoon of his father's funeral, how the second he, his mum, and Maggie had gotten home, he'd gone straight to his parents room, plucked his father's guitar from its stand in the corner, and sat at the edge of his parents' bed plucking diligently at it until dinner. It became a routine for him after that, a way of keeping his father alive, he supposed, looking back on it.

"More than a few," Billy said cryptically, and Dom went completely still, waiting with bated breath. "I just turned thirty-one, on the flight here, actually. August twenty-eighth." He waited for the inevitable reaction; it always got one.

.

Dom looked him over yet again, cataloguing the shape of his eyes and the suppleness of his skin, only finely lined under the eyes and forehead. His mouth was childlike, thin, but curving. His hair was fine, and only just slightly receding. But his build was strong and mature, and he was small. Small like Dom was himself.

"Wow," He breathed a laugh, glancing away toward the street. "You don't look it. I hope I look that good when I'm an old fart," he joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

He took a deep breath and another swallow of beer, diving for a safer topic. "Alright, so, how the hell did you get here? Do you know the books or did you just... tumble down the rabbit hole?"

.

"Something like that," Billy answered, smiling, finding himself unable to stop too often in Dom's company. "My agent got me an audition, y'know. It probably helps that I look like I'm fourteen." He hesitated. "I don't know nearly enough about the trilogy as I should. 'M just nearing the end of The Return of the King," he admitted sheepishly, hiding most of the admission in his pint.

It still astounded him how often he'd gotten by on his luck (and, he supposed, a little bit of talent) since drama school. It was an awful thought, but sometimes Billy truly did consider the possibility that the last few years were some bizarre sort of karmic balancing act for his parents.

"I don't have to ask much about you, though. I know how old you are and how you got here," Billy said proudly. "I'm at a terrible advantage. They gave me your headshot and CV when I got here. I've kept it under my pillow."

.

Dom laughed out loud, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Not very impressive, is it?" he sobered a bit and sighed, "You know, after Hetty ended, practically all anyone said to me was that I ought to get on "Coronation Street". Like, if you act in Manchester, that's all there is for you. I hate that show."

The food arrived still steaming on the plates, and Dom eagerly chomped into a chip, chewing thoughtfully, "Before I filmed in France, I was thinking about moving to London, or maybe even Los Angeles. But then they called me back for this. It was sort of out of the blue. I auditioned for Frodo, and they said I didn't get it. And then, months later, after I'd got it out of my head, they called back." He scratched at his prickly head under the hat, shaking it in disbelief. "I feel like I'm not even supposed to be here."

He took a big bite of his burger, groaning at the taste, watching Billy happily do the same with his own. "My dad's over the moon, you know. He loves these books. Gave me his old copy when I was fifteen."

.

"That's great," Billy smiled wide but still felt a small stab of regret that his own father couldn't be around to see just how far he'd come, and so quickly. "I've done my share of crap, too, you know." He held his glass out. "To two lucky bastards, then."

Dom smiled and brought his glass up against his.

"And you'll be happy to know that we're not the only ones on set with inferiority complexes. I mean, Orlando's straight out of drama school. None of us thinks we should be here, so it all evens out in the end, you know?" He thought of Dom, having had to process the rejection, only to be un-rejected later. "Must've been strange getting that phone call, though. What was that like?"

.

Dom nodded thanks to the waiter who brought a pitcher to refill their drinks, and considered that moment. "It was amazing. And sort of uncomfortable."

"I was in a car with a bunch of mates, a couple of them actors too. I had my arm around my girlfriend," He demonstrated leaning back with his arm around an imaginary person, "And my agent's practically yelling into the phone that I got it. Just a few minutes before I'd been planning a romantic getaway with Meg for her birthday."

He took another bite, still feeling a bit ashamed about how that had all gone pear-shaped.

.

"That is awkward." Billy munched on his chips, watching Dom struggle with something. He was glad for not having been in a relationship when he'd gotten that call. Though he'd been working on a play at the time, he was thankful to have a reason to get away; he hadn't had the opportunity in a couple of years.

"Are you still together? You and Meg." He was pretty sure he knew the answer, though, from the look on Dom's face.

.

"No," Dom grinned sheepishly. "She got wise and turned me loose. 'M not much use to her halfway around the world, am I?" he shrugged a bit. "She's a sweetheart though, I can't really hold it against her."

They worked on their burgers for a few minutes, the silence not uncomfortable. Dom studied Billy thoughtfully. He'd evaded a few questions, almost without Dom being aware of it, and that was a fairly impressive tactic. Maybe he could set a trap of his own.

He popped the last bite in his mouth, chewed and washed it down with a gulp of beer, still picking at the remains of his chips. "Bloody Star Wars."

.

Billy laughed through a mouthful of food, unsure he'd heard Dom properly. He swallowed, licking salt from his lips. "'M sorry, what was that? Did Han Solo take your girl away?"

.

Dom laughed, "Maybe. The bastard. He's the reason I got myself into this mess. Hey! Did you know they're supposed to be shooting the new one in Sydney next year? It would so cool if we could get over there somehow, see the sets. I wonder if Peter could fix it so we could."

Billy shook his head, laughing as he chewed.

Dom grinned wickedly, "It's true, though. I saw Star Wars when I was little and I've wanted to act ever since."

.

Billy felt himself lighting up. "So did I! Actually, I wanted to be a Jedi but when I found out it wasn't real, I figured playing one would be the next best thing." He sighed heavily. "Now I'm a hobbit."

He'd gotten over all those issues of masculinity long ago, though. He knew before he'd even gone to drama school that he'd never be a romantic lead or a sinister villain or anything like that. He was destined to be a character actor for the rest of his life, supporting or featured, and that was that. But he didn't mind; he'd still be working when he was old and decrepit, while the prettier ones would just be, well, old and decrepit. He had a sneaking suspicion that Dom wasn't completely at peace with the idea, though, not yet. He wanted more opportunity than his face might afford him.

"What's your dream role? Besides Han Solo. What kind of film would you really like to do?"

.

"Man, I have so many," Dom intoned wistfully. "I'd love to be in a gangster film, you know? I'd love to be a really good villain. The one before this sort of was. I was playing a really cheeky kid in Nazi occupied France, and ended up getting executed." He grinned, lifting his hat and rubbing his hand over his barely-there hair. "They shaved it on camera, and I had to stay in character the whole time, you know, it was really cool."

Billy grinned back, nodding in understanding, and Dom plunged on, "I always want to be changing it up though. I mean, I don't want to get stuck doing cheeky bumbling guys all the time, it has to be challenging, you know?"

He glanced away, licking his lips, "I'm a bit worried about that. If this thing goes anywhere, we're going to be bombarded with nothing but bad sci-fi roles, the pair of us, playing leprechauns and shite. I don't want to do that."

.

"Yeah," Billy leaned in conspiratorially. "I know I shouldn't be thinking about it, but I've been wondering a lot about that: what's going to happen if the films do well. I mean, it's exciting, but it's also a bit scary, you know?" He wasn't sure Dom understood the scary part; there was an undercurrent of fierce ambition to all that he'd just said.

"I'm not sure I'd want to move to Hollywood or anything like that," he smiled at the idea, ridiculous to him. "I still want to be able to work at home, do new plays and stuff like that." Like Dom, Billy didn't want to be caught doing any one thing over and over, the adorable, naive sidekick to Dom's cheeky bumbler. And he had a feeling there'd be nothing but that for him waiting in Hollywood. He'd be lucky if they'd be able to get past his accent at all, let alone how he looked.

"It would be cool to do a gangster film," he mused. "Mean Streets or something like that. I'd want to do it in Glasgow, though. Not sure I could pull off a New York accent. Can you?"

.

"Probably not, my Yank leans too Southern, they tell me," Dom grinned, "But what about Irish? I'm okay with Dubliner, my dad's family is from there. There's an Irish mob in New York, right? Or just keep it in London, or something. I'm sure Glasgow has plenty of dark basements."

He considered Billy's plans. More and more, he'd become a bit disenchanted with Manchester's drama scene, it was beginning to feel all the same to him. London was the next option, but he wasn't sold on that either. What he really wanted was a complete change of scenery, a different tone altogether. It pointed him to the states, either LA or possibly New York, he just didn't know.

"I wonder how Elijah and Astin cope with it?" he mused.

.

"Well, they've both definitely had enough time to learn." Billy still couldn't fathom Sean and Elijah's childhoods, or non-childhoods, as it were. He didn't have enough discipline as a kid to do what they'd done, let alone the talent.

He looked down at his nearly clean plate and started fishing his pile of extra pickles into his mouth one by one. Billy wondered about Dom. Just as he'd suspected, there was a sweetness underneath that cocky, streetwise demeanor. He wondered what other layers were waiting underneath that and when he'd get to see them, if at all.

"Lij isn't what I expected him to be. He's smart but... more sheltered than I would've thought, growing up the way he did. He's great, though. Really good guy. I think he feels kind of like the odd man out. I mean, Sean's a Yank too, but he's got a family, it's different, you know? Orlando and I keep ribbing him, but I don't think he gets it," Billy laughed. "I think I'll have to pull him aside and tell him it's all in good fun. Especially now that you're here."

.

"We'll just have to break him in properly," Dom grinned.

He shook his head with amusement, watching Billy crunch up his pickles with gusto. More and more he was beginning to think there was a lot more than meets the eye with him. When Pete had spoken of Pippin, and how, being the youngest of the group, he would basically have to grow up over the course of the movie, but as they were filming much of it out of sequence, he'd have to be on top of where Pippin was mentally at any given time. Billy had nodded and expressed how naïve he would be when the rest were around to take care of him, and then losing it bit by bit. For someone who hadn't even finished the books, he was certainly doing pretty well at interpreting them. Dom imagined Billy had had something of a transformation like that in his own life.

He glanced down at his nearly drained glass again, exhaling softly. "I can't wait. When are we meant to be back up there? I can't wait to see us all in full makeup. I've read that book a few times, but parts of it are hard to imagine. But Pete seems like he gets it. Man, going in to see him is like getting an audience with the Queen though, isn't it?" He laughed remembering how over the course of their meeting, dozens of people were in and out asking about this, that and the other, and all the while Peter had a sandwich balanced on top of his round belly. "He's something else. I like him, though. I trust him."

.

"Me too," Billy agreed quickly. As tremendous in scope as it all was, he had faith that it would go well, that it was in the hands of the best person for the job. "I've no idea when we'll be back up there. That's my only complaint so far: I feel like I never know what I'm supposed to be doing until hours before. 'M sure that's only going to get worse as we start shooting." He drained the rest of his beer. "Lij and Sean don't seem too bothered by it. I suppose it's par for the course."

The waiter appeared suddenly and without a sound, startling the both of them. When he asked if they wanted refills, Billy looked to Dom for an answer and was happy to get a smiling nod. He cleared their plates and disappeared, leaving Billy to lean back in his chair with a great sigh.

"Orli has this idea about us going surfing when the weather really starts to change. 'M not sure how I feel about that." He had some idea of how Dom would feel about it, though.

.

"Really? Could be fun. That'd be a riot back in England, yeah? I've seen people doing it at some of the beaches, but fuck, the water's bloody freezing!" Dom pondered learning how, "That'll be right up Orlando's alley, though, he already looks the part."

Dom had always been immediately wary of beautiful people. Most of the time unwarranted, but occasionally, he'd run into a few who'd had so many things handed to them because of their sex appeal, that they could be quite bratty when it didn't work to their advantage. Dom didn't have that option, he'd had to develop his charm and wit from a very early age to get into or out of various situations. Sometimes it didn't work out for him either, but he at least had the grace to take what was coming to him if he deserved it.

"So..." he asked, "The bloke playing Strider, I forget his name. Did I just show up when his knickers were in a twist, or is he going to be a diva like that all the time?"

.

"Oh Christ," Billy groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. "I meant to tell you earlier: Stuart's a fucking prick." Dom did an impressive combination of smiling and flinching. To be fair, Billy'd surprised himself, too; he didn't hand out phrases like that lightly, and he wasn't sure he'd put it so graphically up until that moment.

"No one knows what's up his arse—he barely bothers speaking to anyone." Billy recalled the unfamiliar, bewildered looks that had crossed Pete's face in the few interactions he'd seen between the director and the prick in question. "'S not my affair, but I have the feeling he'll be on his way out soon."

He hunched over, starting in on his second pint. Dom merely sat quietly, sliding his glass back and forth along the surface of the table.

.

Dom considered that inwardly. He knew he didn't have a lot of experience, but for someone, particularly someone fairly unknown to behave so badly even before a production got started was not the greatest was to stay employed. He'd seen it once before on a play he'd done some time ago. That time it got him shifted from a walk-on with only a couple of lines to a supporting role, just days before the play would run.

"Aragorn's my favorite character in the books. He's meant to be very thoughtful and intriguing, the sort of bloke who's spent years fully aware of what his destiny is before really accepting that he can do it, he can be a king, and a good one," he mused, "It's not a part you want that sort of a person mucking up."

He looked up at Billy, finding him looking back with a pensive smile and nodding agreement. "What do you think about everyone else? You said Elijah's good. I don't really doubt it, I'm sure he knows his way around these things by now. Sean too, probably." He grinned lasciviously, "I wonder when Liv Tyler gets here."

.

Billy laughed, low and dark, and took another sip. "Word on the street is she's taken, mate. But, yeah: it'll be nice to have someone pretty to look at. Besides Orlando," he joked. He gave Dom's foot a nudge under the table. "Not even broken up with Meg a week. What would she say?"

Dom afforded him a small smile, though a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"Aside from Stuart," Billy quickly rattled on, noticing Dom's discomfort, "I think everyone's pretty perfectly cast, you know? Orli's a bit green, but he's a sweetheart. I think he's scared shitless, too." He leveled a mock-glare at Dom across the table. "Except you, of course. You're a terrible actor, I can tell. I might have to quit before we start."

Dom glanced up with a spark in his eye, fully prepared for a comeback, but Billy interrupted with a big bright sigh.

"We've the afternoon off. You must be exhausted, though. Are you for a nap after this? I might be too." He laughed at himself. "Eat and sleep. 'M getting into character already, eh?"

.

Dom laughed. He liked Billy, as first impressions went, and hoped it would stay so easy and comfortable like this.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. He was feeling a bit sleepy, now that he'd been fed and watered, especially after a morning like this. He'd got into the hotel fairly late and had only five hours to sleep off some of the jetlag before he'd been expected at the studio.

"Maybe," he said through a yawn. "Are you still in a hotel? Fran gave me pamphlets for flats and houses around here, but I didn't really look at them yet, I passed out as soon as I ate last night. Can you believe this? They're going to buy us cars and everything."

.

"It's pretty crazy, isn't it?" Billy wrinkled his nose. "I'm certainly not used to such treatment. On a film or otherwise." He ran his thumbs along the rim of his glass. "Orlando and I are already in our own flats. The others are still looking or getting settled, I think. Stuart's found himself a nice suitable hole in the ground, I'm sure," he mumbled.

He looked up at Dom, getting an idea. "You're more than welcome to get a look at mine, see what it's like. Make sure the accommodations are up to your standard."

.

Dom grinned, "Yeah, alright. I don't know though, I'm difficult bloke to please. If the toilet isn't gold-plated, I might pitch a fit."

He drained his glass as the waiter brought out the check, which Billy promptly took. "Thanks for this," Dom told him, happily. "We'll have to come back here. 'S a nice place."

They got up to leave, Dom feeling warm and happy in the spring sun and cool breeze. "This is weird, yeah? When I left Manchester, it was all blustery, the leaves turning and everything. Is your place far? Can we walk to it?"

.

"Ehm," Billy glanced around, trying to orient himself. "'M not sure, to tell you the truth," he admitted sheepishly. "I've never done it. I think so, though."

He started off in the direction of his flat, leaving space beside him on the sidewalk for Dom. "We can give it a try," he smiled. "First time for everything." He peered ahead at a street sign. "Should only take about fifteen minutes, maybe."

Billy sighed, pocketing his hands as they walked side by side, feeling almost too comfortable. "I know what you mean. I have to keep reminding myself what month it is. Thank God we're going home for the holidays. 'M not sure I could handle a hot Christmas, you know?"

.

"Yeah," Dom said absently. Having just got here, he couldn't really think about going home just yet. As it was he'd barely had time between France and New Zealand to pack up his belongings and kiss his mum goodbye. He did wish he'd had a spare few hours to pay Gran a visit before leaving, though. She hadn't been well when he'd gone to France, and as much as she said she was fine, there was an undercurrent of worry amongst the whole family. He pinched his brows together, glancing at his watch and counting off the hours; it would be the middle of the night at home, he wouldn't be able to phone her yet anyway.

He followed Billy down the sidewalk, leaving the shops behind for cozy manicured neighborhoods with kids getting home for school. "You mentioned your sister's family. Does she have kids, then?"

.

"Yup," Billy answered with a smile. "Two. A girl and a boy. I was hoping they could come up here, at least for a bit, you know? But I don't think they have enough time off from school."

Billy'd started thinking about the possibility of his own kids—not actively, but the thought had implanted itself there last year. He supposed there was something about turning thirty. He was so far from married, though, that apart from impregnating some poor suspecting Kiwi, there wasn't much chance of that now. A friend of his had mentioned setting him up with this girl he knew, a friend of one of his friends, a dancer, but getting this had thrown a spike in that pretty quick. He'd ended up meeting her briefly the week before he left, and she'd been sweet and funny—and very pretty—but there'd been an understanding that nothing would come of it, at least not then.

"Your brother doesn't have kids, does he?"

.

"My mum hopes not," Dom laughed, "Nah, Matt's a free spirit. He's always on the move, I don't think he's ever stayed with girl long enough for that."

He plucked a petal from someone's rose bush as they passed, smelling it before tearing into little pieces as they walked. "I love kids. I figure I'll have a herd of them someday. But not yet, not for awhile. I want to be sure I can, you know? I want to sure I'm in a place where I can take care of them, give them the things they need and want."

Billy nodded silently in thought. Dom pushed on, "Sean kept going on about his little girl this morning. I guess his wife and daughter just got in as well? That's a trip. A shoot so long you want your family to come."

.

"Yeah. Haven't met them yet." Billy remembered the pictures of Sean's family in his wallet, the ones he'd shown him the day they met. "I was thinking it must be nice to have a family to bring here, you know? But that's probably just age talking," he said grandly, his voice going deep.

He was glad—and impressed—that Dom had already thought about a family of his own. The look on his face when he'd mentioned Sean's daughter was enough to let Billy know he was crazy about kids.

"Maybe I'll marry a Kiwi girl and live happily ever after on this side of the world," he joked. "Elijah already wants to live here. I think he's just excited to be away from his mom for a while."

.

"I can't really blame him," Dom laughed, "How many eighteen year old kids get to move out of mum's to the other side of the world, and get to drink legally at the same time?"

Billy turned off the road into a little complex of flats, jingling his keys in his pocket.

"This is you, then?" Dom asked, looking up at the building.

.

"How about that?" Billy smiled before trotting up the walkway. He suddenly, stupidly, felt nervous as he slid the key into the lock. He swung the door open wide to leave plenty of room behind him for Dom, dropping his keys on a tiny table in the foyer.

Dom strode through to the living room, twirling as he did so, taking in his fill. His eyebrows rose at a rather large suitcase and a pair of boxes in the corner. Billy shrugged sheepishly. "Haven't totally settled in yet. Feel free to walk around," he insisted, gesturing out to the hall.

.

Dom looked around the place, bigger, newer and most definitely cleaner than the tiny Manchester flat he'd just vacated. And furnished as well, though sparsely, but at least it had a sofa and a television. He supposed after a year and more, they'd all settle in and accumulate more things.

"It's a bit like starting all over, yeah?" he said.

He glanced at the kitchen and then down the hall Billy had indicated, flashing a look of mischief up at him before he darted down it. One glance showed him an undressed mattress in one room, and in the opposite, a bed that was hastily made, more suitcases on the floor. In that room, he pulled open the closet and found what he was looking for, just as Billy came after him.

"A-ha!" Dom said grandly at the big black guitar case propped in the closet, waggling his brows as Billy leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, "You do keep secrets in the closet after all."

.

Billy sighed heavily, regretting that he hadn't remembered Orlando's big reveal from earlier. Dom looked at him patiently.

"'S not that I'm ashamed or anything—I just don't like talking about it." Dom's eyebrows shot up, and Billy laughed at his persistent inability to articulate what he meant. "That sounds crazy," he chided himself under his breath, then plunged on: "What I meant was that I don't like announcing it, like I'm some kind of rock god or something. No matter how I put it, it always sounds like showing off. To me, anyway."

Dom's expression softened, and he went quiet with interest. Eerily quiet.

"And then people want you to play for them. Which I don't mind—I quite enjoy it, actually, but. 'S just something I like to do," he ended lamely.

.

Dom watched Billy struggle with finding the words.

"It's not showing off," he said quietly, "Maybe a little, but not really. Not everyone can do it. Make music. Not just play it but make it. So to see someone do it is... special." His eyes lit on the mouth organ Orlando had also mentioned on the edge of the nightstand, fingering it with glee and a flashed look at Billy again.

"Music is like a universal language, you know? It's one everyone can feel and understand even if they don't know the words. Even if you're deaf, you can feel it inside you. It's this huge emotional language that touches everyone. So the few people who can speak that language are... almost on a higher level." Dom pocketed his hands, "They're fascinating. That's why people ask you to play for them."

.

"Are you hitting on me?" Billy joked. "Well, you've got your hands all over my organ. I suppose that's more than hitting on me."

Dom smiled, but he still looked curious.

Billy was more than a bit ashamed to realize that he hadn't ever thought of music the way that Dom did. But maybe that was the point: that he didn't have to think about it that way. It was just in him, like breath.

He took the instrument from Dom and twiddled it between his own fingers. "It's not even something I like to do or work to do—it's something I have to do. I don't even feel that way about acting," he admitted. "Not all the time, anyway."

.

Dom nodded, watching Billy's narrow fingers sliding over the etched silver and brass. Something squeezed in him, a familiar wistfulness for something like that of his own. Dom had so many different loves and interests, but none that he truly couldn't be without.

He bounced a bit on his heels, laughing, "You're not what I expected, Billy Boyd."

Billy quirked a questioning brow at him, and shrugged before elaborating, "They could've cast some daft kid to play Pippin and he wouldn't have had to dig too deep to play naïve and innocent. But they cast you."

.

Billy smiled, feeling a thick, unexpected affection for Dom at that. "I'll try to take that as a compliment and not as you calling me an old bastard." He punctuated it with a quick toot on the organ, then replaced it on the nightstand, clapping Dom on the shoulder. "Come on, there's a guest room, too. Where I assume you'll frequently be staying when we go out to the pubs. So long as you don't bring anyone back and soil the sheets with your organ."

He led Dom across the hall to the empty, thoroughly unimpressive room—although the fact that they had guest rooms at all was certainly impressive in itself.

"Don't think I'm going to want to leave when this is over. I've never had a place this nice to myself," Billy mused, drumming his fingers on the doorframe. He turned to Dom, his voice brightening. "Will you be coming out tonight? It'll be nice to have someone who can hold their drink as well as I do. I've a good feeling about you," he patted Dom's stomach.

.

"Mate," Dom raised a brow, "If I'm getting laid I won't be bringing my girls to your flat, will I? Yeah, I'll come out." He flopped down on the naked mattress, feeling good and lazy. "I want to see how much an eighteen-year-old Yank can drink before he pukes. Probably not much."

He grinned up at Billy, who pressed one knee into the mattress as he looked down on him. "You not so old. I'll have to see how old you think you are when you're pickled. Pickle."

.

"'M not sure I approve of that nickname," Billy said lightly. He gave Dom a playful punch in the stomach, and Dom convulsed dramatically.

Billy laughed, feeling more excited than he had since getting here. He couldn't believe he'd doubted Pete's instincts for a second; he and Dom were going to play off of each other brilliantly. He couldn't believe he'd only known Dom for all of a few hours. Looking down at his mischievous, smiling face, he felt right at home.

He nodded in mock-approval. "I think I'm going to like you just fine, Monaghan."


	3. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September, Wellington ~ 1999

It was half past 1AM when the call came, pulling him from sleep. His mother’s voice, distraught and incoherent, and then his father’s, pinched and clipped but bearing the worst of news.

Gran was gone. 

Dom spent the next few hours on the phone, having broken conversations with various family members, until he had exhausted his family address book and called his parents again. He held the line and cried. Then he rang off and cried some more in the cold quiet dark, until he was aching, exhausted, swollen and dry.

It was 4AM when he thought to ring someone from work, someone in charge, grasping to be told what he should do. He called Fran, who it turned out was probably the best person he could have reached, in hindsight.

Oh Dommie, she’d said, and that was the first time she’d ever called him that. The first person here who had done. I’m so very sorry. We’ll arrange to fly you home, right away, love.

No! he’d cried, terrified, But I just got here! I can’t go!

Darling, your family is always first, she’d gentled, but he wouldn’t stand for that.

No! I signed for this, I’m fucking staying, he snarled, then sucked in a breath at her silence, pleading fearfully, Please… please, Fran, I need this job, I can’t lose this job.

Oh, Dommie, no, she murmured, understanding. Not for good. For the funeral. I only meant for the funeral, then you’ll come back to us.

She paused, and so did he. Then she elaborated, Darling, we spent too much time searching for our perfect Merry to replace you now.

Dom sat breathing, shaking, torn and afraid, Gran’s face swimming in his memory, telling him that one day, she’d see his name in lights. That had been so many years ago now. Now she was gone.

Don’t you want to go to her funeral, dear? It’s no trouble to arrange, I promise, Fran’s sweet voice drifted over the line.

I… I can’t, Dom whispered, then strengthened his voice. She wouldn’t want me to. She’d tell me to stay.

Alright, then, Fran sighed down the line, But I want you to take today off. No, don’t argue, you won’t ruin anything by missing fight training and script readings, you know. But if you change your mind about going, you tell me.

It was 11AM when the bell rang, with a delivery of white flowers on the other side of the door. From Fran, most likely. He put them in the kitchen sink and left them there, dropping back down into his bed.

It was half past 2PM when his mobile rang again, number showing it to be Astin. He didn’t answer. In another ten minutes, it rang again. And then, again five minutes later, this time showing Elijah’s number.

Half an hour after this, it rang again, blinking Billy’s name. He held it, dithering, watching it blink earnestly at him. His new costars, people he’d only just met a mere fortnight ago, people who knew nothing of him, and certainly nothing of Gran. He didn’t want their pity or their sympathy. He’d have to face them tomorrow (Fran had told him to take whatever time he needed, but he would go back to work tomorrow), but not today. The phone stopped its ringing and went to voicemail. He switched it off, going back to his journal entry.

At 4PM he sat in the damp sand at Lyall Bay. It was overcast, raining only lightly, and even so surfers conquered the waves before him. The world was mourning with him while other peoples’ lives went on. And still the blue sky poked through, as if she was telling him to stop this nonsense. He sighed, watching the surfers, wondering what Gran would say if he took up such an un-English sport.

At 6PM, he was hungry, but he ignored it. He reveled in the painful emptiness he felt. He lay on his sofa, the telly on but muted, ignoring some Kiwi sitcom. He stared at the ceiling, blank, his journal lying open and face down on his chest.

A few minutes later, his doorbell rang. He heaved a great sigh. He didn’t want any more flowers. But it was followed by a forceful knocking, and his name being called, muffled by the wood and plaster, urgent. It continued for some minutes, until he finally pulled himself off the sofa and pulled it slowly open to find Billy on the other side.

.

When Billy's phone rang, he'd expected that his call time had gotten pushed back for tomorrow—or at least that's what he'd hoped for. But the moment he heard Fran's voice, so distant and monotonous on the other end, he knew something had happened, something not at all film-related.

He'd noticed how closed off Dom had been the last few mornings, after what he now assumed were nights of increasingly pessimistic phone calls from his parents. Dom hadn't kept him updated, maybe because he'd still been holding out hope. So Billy wasn't at all surprised when he didn't answer his call that afternoon. He couldn't help trying, though, just as he couldn't help that instinct inside that had him striding up Dom's walkway with an armful of Thai takeout.

He remembered better than anything the importance his Gran had placed on food, on he and his sister eating, in the days after their parents went. Even as her own heart was breaking, she was cooking them three hot meals a day and practically force-feeding them from plate to mouth.

When Dom finally opened his front door to him, Billy tried to channel her gentle determination. "Hey. You should eat." He took in Dom's red, puffy eyes, sallow skin, and matted hair, and felt his mouth pinch in a grimace. He knew grief all too well, carried it around with him like loose change, really. "If you want me to go, I'll go. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. We don't have to talk or anything. Whatever you want."

.

Fran had told them, then. Of course she would, they would have wondered where he was, why he wasn't at work. Billy would have been paired with Stuart or one of the stunties, his mind supplied numbly.

He looked Billy over, in his soft long sleeved shirt and loose jeans, his arms full of carrier bags from that place they'd discovered a few days ago. His stomach responded to the smell of food, though his brain wanted to tell him to bugger off and shut the door. Of any of them, he supposed Billy was best. He had no patience for Elijah's vast looks or Orlando's enthusiasm and even less for Astin's coddling ways. But he had no off-the-cuff jokes today, no desire to bounce back and forth the way he and Billy had done in the few weeks since they'd met. He had nothing to give Billy in return for the gift of food.

He had told Billy alone that Gran had been ill, and it wasn't something he'd expected him to remember from that first evening in which they'd spent getting to know one another. Even so, he kept his family affairs close and private, guarded them from everyone as was his way. Billy, however, did not, though he'd dealt with worse losses in his time.

The door hinge squeaked as Dom shifted it back and forth in indecision, before shrugging and pushing it open to let Billy step inside with his takeaway, and went back to sprawl on the sofa once again.

.

Billy followed him wordlessly to the sofa, sinking down beside him and extracting white cartons from his big brown paper bag. He fished twin plastic forks from the bottom of the bag and held one out to Dom handle-first. "I did my best to remember your order from last time. "'S probably not perfect, but," he smiled.

He let a long silence fall between them, watching Dom's thoughts skitter across his face in a rush; he was pondering whether or not he was ready for company, Billy could tell.

"Be right back." Billy squeezed his thigh before rising and shuffling to the kitchen for a pair of beers. When he returned, Dom was already tucked into the carton of pineapple fried rice—intended for Billy, but Billy didn't mind, of course. He was glad to see him eating. He placed a bottle firmly on the table in front of him and took his seat again, picking up the nearest carton.

They ate silently for long minutes, but it wasn't uncomfortable in the least. Billy felt prepared for anything, from Dom yelling at him for treating him like a child to Dom bursting into tears.

.

The food was good, and after the first bite he tried, Dom ate ravenously, having not eaten at all during the day.

He sat against the arm of the sofa with his knees pulled in, watching Billy watch the muted television. He'd at least been told the circumstances, so why was he here? Billy had no real obligation to him beyond work, and certainly not now. 

"Bill, erm... you didn't have to do this," he tried, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice. "I don't think I'm very good company right now."

.

"'M not here for your company," Billy deadpanned. "I just wanted to make sure you were eating." His expression turned more serious. "I know it's easy to forget." He made his body rigid, ready for action. "But if you want me to go..."

Dom didn't answer, so Billy got more comfortable on the sofa and tucked into his food in earnest, while still keeping one eye on his new friend. He really liked Dom. He couldn't explain it, but he already felt terribly connected to him. Even though he'd been noticeably preoccupied through these first several days of work, his spark persisted, and Billy was like firewood to it. He had to hand it to Pete: when it came to casting, his instincts were impeccable. Billy was fully confident that they'd make a stellar onscreen pair.

"I care about you, Dom." He surprised himself with his own words. "I know we haven't known each other long, but I think we're going to be great friends. So I want you to know I'm here for you. That's all."

.

Dom blinked at such unexpected honesty. The pair of them hadn't even got before the cameras yet, but they'd been nearly inseparable both during work and off. Already they were developing a rhythm, an ease with each other, and even now when Dom was at his least social, he didn't dislike his company. He turned his eyes down to his carton, scraping together rice and sweet, tangy sauce.

"Thanks," he muttered, somewhat shamefully, reaching for his beer, "For this."

Billy only shrugged and smiled amicably, watching as he took a sip, and then several long gulps, surprised at how thirsty he was. He leaned to put it back, accidentally knocking his journal from the coffee table. Billy was quick to pick it up, straighten a bent page without reading and hand it back. Dom tucked it between his hip and the sofa back, finishing his food.

"What... erm," he collected his words, not sure what he wanted to hear in answer, "What did I miss? At work?" The real questions might have been What did Fran tell you, and What do the others know and Will they not be arseholes about it tomorrow? But those bigger fears he didn't voice. Billy he trusted a little more readily than the rest, somehow. Maybe by proxy of knowing they'd be working so closely in a few weeks, and if they wanted to enjoy it, they had to get along. Or simply because Billy made himself easy to trust.

.

"Ehm, nothing too serious. Just more sword practice. During which I got yelled at ten more times for being too vicious." The words came quickly and perhaps a bit too enthusiastically; Billy was glad for the prompt. "You'll probably be better off for not having been there," he smiled.

Dom didn't look convinced, though. 

"They were really good about working around you," Billy assured him. "Pete did some more character work with the three of us. He still doesn't know how he feels about my accent," he scrunched up his nose, getting lost in his own insecurities for a moment. "Elijah kept asking me questions about you. I think he thinks we're married."

.

"What was he asking?" Dom looked swiftly up, his brows knotted together. Elijah may have known everything there was to know about Hollywood and moviemaking, but outside of it he had the unfiltered curiousness that came with living that sort of sheltered life. He asked questions most people would hold back. Sometimes Dom admired him for it, but others, not so much.

That could be why he and Billy got on as well as they did. They both had come from working families and not so great parts of large cities. Dom knew that his upbringing had been somewhat unique and privileged; as middle class families went, not everyone got to travel as much as he had. That Billy came out of his own situation so grounded, completely unashamed and not the least angry over it was something.

.

"Y'know," Billy tried to keep his voice light, "When you were coming back, if you were going home." He busied himself with his food, poking around in a carton of black pepper beef. "I told him I didn't know."

He watched Dom's face. He hadn't given Billy much of anything since he'd walked through the door, aside from a hungry stomach and an obviously distraught expression. He had no idea where Dom's head was as far as the films went, if at all. "Do you?" Fran hadn't given him much, either.

.

Dom pushed his empty carton away, clutching his journal against his chest. He guessed there was more to Billy's questioning. Billy had a vested interest in his decision, after all, considerably more than Elijah did.

He went back to the conversation he'd had with his mother earlier in the day (quite late at night for her), when he'd told her he wasn't coming home. She'd cried. Worse, she'd pleaded with him. He winced just to think of it, swallowing the lump that jumped in his throat and focusing carefully on a spot on the carpet. As much as his mum supported his acting, this she may not forgive him for.

"I'm staying here." He took in a deep, slow breath, and tried to clear his throat, "I'll be back in for tomorrow."

.

Billy flinched; Dom sounded almost defensive. He wanted to know if there were funeral arrangements, and if so, why Dom decided to forego them, but he also didn't want to come off like he was judging him for it, either. There were simply no grounds to judge anyone for how they chose to grieve.

"You don't need more time or anything? I know Pete'd be willing to give it to you." He put his food down, ignoring it, and turned his full body (and attention) to Dom.

.

"I know he would," Dom answered quickly, almost sharply. He shrugged to soften it. 

The truth was he was extremely torn, even having been assured the job was his. He'd already come in to this late, at least as one of the hobbits, and they were to shoot in less than a fortnight. He didn't want to be travel-worn and grieving when they started. He'd sat watching Stuart butt heads with Pete and the crew on petty little things; no matter how unspoken it was, all of them knew something was going to give there sooner or later. Dom did not want to present yet another problem and tempt fate that way.

But he also wanted to go home. He'd been quite young when his grandad had passed. That had been a very confusing time, traveling from Germany in a rush, his mother as broken as she was now, the funeral in which Gran had been a shell of herself. Now all the same family would gather at that same place, and lay her to rest in the plot beside his. He already knew how it would go; he could imagine it. He wasn't sure he'd feel any better about it if he were there.

"Is there ever enough time?" he asked blandly, looking up at Billy with hollow eyes. Seeing Billy's face harden briefly, it occurred to him that asking that question might have crossed a line. He looked away, whispering, "Sorry, I just... You don't have to answer that."

.

"I wasn't going to," Billy sighed, pushing lightning quick flashes out of his mind: Maggie trashing her room at age seventeen, a girlfriend of his from several years before breaking down and hitting him, calling him "frigid," "closed off." He could see that wrought-iron fence being erected around his heart even now; he never, never wanted pity. 

He laid a hand on Dom's calf, bunched up next to him on the sofa. "Do you feel like you gave her enough of a goodbye? That's all that matters."

.

Dom picked at the leather stitching of the journal, not yet completely full, but one thread had come loose at an outside corner and he couldn't help but pick at it. He thought of some of the entries on its pages.

"I..." he started, his voice rough, "I was about to audition. For Frodo," he managed a tiny wry smile for an instant, "My agent had only just booked it and I went to see her. She... She'd broken her kneecap. Some stupid thing. She'd fallen on it and they said it would just heal if she stayed off it."

He shifted downward so his head rested on the arm and he looked up at the ceiling, his feet bunched up under Billy's crossed legs. Billy's hand remained there on his leg, a simple, almost caressing presence he didn't mind.

"I told her about it and gave her my old copy of the book. She couldn't do anything anyway, so she wanted big books to read. She'd read half of it by then, and she said she kept imagining me in the part. The wrong part, now."

He drew in a careful breath, willing his chin to quit trembling. "That was the last time I saw her. She said I'd get the part, she knew I would. Then I went to France, and she started to get some kind of infection. That was what... did it. Some sort of sepsis that wouldn't go away. From a bloody broken knee. I didn't... I didn't get a chance to talk to her again."

.

Dom was trying hard to not cry, Billy could hear it in his voice. Billy's thumb started moving back and forth against his skin of its own volition. He imagined Dom's grandmother, an elderly woman with no distinct face, so loving and supportive even as she lay on her deathbed. He missed having that kind of unconditional care; it'd been several years since his own Gran had died.

"She probably knew she was going to go soon. They always have some idea." He kept his voice soft and uninvasive. "She'd probably want you to be here then, eh? It sounds like she was really excited for you. She'd be proud you're playing the smart hobbit, and not the one that gets stabbed all the time." Billy hoped for a smile, but he knew that was asking too much.

.

Dom could only give that a nod, taking several deep breaths to settle himself. He'd cried enough today, ached mentally and physically from it. Whether Billy saw didn't bother him as much as feeling sick from it. He sat up and reached over for his beer to drain the rest of it.

"Maybe," he affirmed, managing a small smile at another memory. "She watched all of Hetty, when it was on. Came to all my stage shows. I didn't know her really well when I was little, being in Germany, but after we came back and we lived closer, she was always around. She minded Matt and me when Mum and Dad were away, she'd take us out to carnivals and things. She taught me a lot." His voice broke up, and he couldn't help but crumple.

.

Billy's brow furrowed as he saw the tears finally rise into Dom's eyes. He immediately reached for his empty beer bottle, pulled it from his hand and replaced it on the table, pulling him to his side with an arm around his shoulders. He kept his touch tentative; he wasn't certain Dom would welcome this level of comfort. He might rather have Billy bugger off than see him like this at all. But the moment their bodies made contact, Dom let go, turning his face into Billy's shoulder and letting out a sob there. Being side by side like that wasn't enough for either of them, he could tell, so brought his other arm around Dom as well, turning him bodily to lean completely against him. One hand found the nape of his neck, stroking the prickly hair there soothingly, while the other ran up and down his back. Dom was so wiry in his arms, he realized with a smile. He'd nearly forgotten, watching his cocky, loud-mouthed antics day to day.

"'S alright," Billy whispered, pulling him even closer.

.

This was what he’d needed. He'd spent all day and most of the night completely alone in his pain, curled around himself with no one taking some of the weight of it. He clung to Billy tightly, pushed him way off balance, until Billy shifted around to lie against the sofa arm with Dom's torso practically atop his, his hands gentle and soothing while he cried against his shirt. It was the simple necessary human contact he'd craved.

The tears stopped rather quickly, but he stayed were he was, his head pillowed on Billy's damp shoulder. Eventually Billy would push him off, but until then, Dom gave into the need to be cradled. He knew instinctively that this would never leave his house, there'd be no mention of it, no teasing. Billy was a better man than that, if he came here and tolerated Dom this way, willingly gave his shoulder, and the rest of himself to be cried on.

.

Billy couldn't help it: his heart gave a start when Dom laid out almost fully on top of him, clinging without shame. He hadn't had this level of contact with a man in a while. He trained his eyes on the ceiling and breathed, savoring it.

When Dom calmed a bit, Billy only intensified his touch, knowing there may very well be more tears on the way. "Y'know," he started, "when my mum died, I didn't leave my room for about a week. My gran would leave plates of food outside my door." He sighed, still recalling with razor-sharp clarity what that week had felt like, the thoughts that went through his mind. It was, without a doubt, the most difficult time of his life. He gave Dom an affectionate rub. "I'm just saying, if you feel the need to do something similar, I have no problem bringing you food every day. You're covered there."

.

Dom gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. He sucked in a breath, his fingers tightening in Billy's shirt. He never figured Billy the type, willing to lie here with a mate, willing to take care of him if he couldn't do it himself.

"You don't have to do that," he muttered, and made a move to sit up, but Billy held him fast. He breathed another laugh and settled back against him, touched that he could take in the comfort of being held longer.

If he went home, he could imagine the way it would be, his mother doing her very best to hold herself together and hold everyone else together as well. Matt would come home, and they'd probably have to bunk together like kids if his aunt also came in from Bristol. She'd be trying to keep everyone fed while trying to sort through Gran's affairs, working herself to the brink. It only solidified his will not to go home and add himself to the burden.

He considered Billy, having heard this rare insight into losing his parents so young. On the surface Billy was open about it, but details like this were not something that came out. "What did you think about, when you were in there?" he murmured against Billy's chest, knowing it probably pressed a deep bruise, but wanting confirmation that his own thoughts today had been normal and appropriate.

.

"That there was no point in coming out," Billy said simply. He remembered tucking himself into bed, pulling the covers over his head, and just staring into the dark, letting the hours pass and pass. "When my dad died, it was painful, but he'd been sick for some time, so it wasn't quite as shocking." He worked hard to keep his voice steady. Even through the emotional rigors and triggers of drama school, these were still things his classmates rarely came to know—or his friends, for that matter. But he knew Dom needed it. "But then with my mum, it wasn't just her—it was her and him all over again. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. The world just stopped making sense. I had no one to protect me anymore, and I was just a kid. My Gran was amazing, but, you know, knowing both your parents are gone... it's a really specific kind of feeling." Billy breathed deeply, taking as much comfort from Dom's warmth as he was giving. He could still feel that feeling in his chest, muted though it was with all the time that had passed. "I hadn't known anyone else that that had happened to so young. I just didn't understand how it was possible. I lost my faith in a lot of things."

He stroked Dom's hair softly, thinking of his Gran practically fighting him out of bed and into a suit the day of his mum's funeral. Oddly enough, it hadn't been her that had eventually gotten him there; it'd been seeing Maggie lingering in the hallway, looking a little desperate in a plain black dress of her own. She became his sole motivation for a while. He still wasn't sure she knew that, he thought with a rueful smile.

.

A few new tears came, not for himself. He couldn't imagine it, not having his parents. It was enough have friends who were children of divorce, and how deeply scarred some of them were from that, but not having parents at all... Dom knew he was blessed to have parents that were not only alive, but still together after all this time.

He didn't pity Billy for it though. If anything, it made Dom admire him all the more for having lived through it and not fallen by the wayside, gotten in trouble or so many other ways he could've gone. 

"You had to grow up too fast. S'not fair," Dom mumbled. He mopped his face and peered up at him, not seeing much more than cheek and his eyelashes blinking. He lifted his head a bit to give Billy a moist pathetic smile. "Now you're all grown up and you get to be a kid again. Play pretend, fight orcs. Get paid for it."

.

"Exactly," Billy smiled, pushing Dom's head back down to his chest. He'd never thought of Pippin that way, as an opportunity to channel a time he partly missed.

He looked down at the crown of Dom's head, content but slightly off-kilter; they'd reached a new plateau in their friendship just in the last few minutes, one he couldn't have expected to reach with anyone here. It was a wonderful thing, but he'd have been lying to himself if he said he wasn't a little scared by it.

"You and I: we're going to be fucking fantastic in this film." He spoke into Dom's hair, feeling it tickle his lips. "And she's going to be watching and loving every minute of it."

.

Dom breathed deeply, far from happy, but closer to it than he had been. He was glad Billy had come over after all. How ready he was for the others remained to be seen; maybe he'd take another day and maybe he wouldn't. But this was okay for now, warm on the sofa with a heartbeat under his ear.

The silenced show on the telly shifted from one to the next, Dom watching only to keep his eyes open. He'd hardly had any sleep, having been on the phone most of the night, alone and a wreck most of the day. Now that he'd been fed and had another emotional drain, some of the time he didn't even manage that, and dozed sporadically over the next hour. Even as darkness fell outside, Billy never moved or tried to shift him off, until Dom woke needing a pee, and pulled himself free to go do that.

.

Billy felt Dom drifting from time to time, and it made him feel the contagious pull of sleep himself. Dom finally moving off of him brought him fully to the surface, and he shifted on the sofa, stretching happily as he listened to Dom move into the bathroom down the hall. He stared at the ceiling and arched his back with a grunt. His body felt pleasantly used from sword training today, and he had only more of it to look forward to tomorrow. He had to admit, it'd been strange without Dom there—they were contractually obliged to be attached at the hip, and he'd gotten used to it over the past couple of weeks—but he was prepared to deal with the possibility of Dom ultimately deciding to not come back tomorrow.

He turned to his side at the sound of a flush, and saw Dom appear in the half-light of the hall, making his way back toward him, still looking like a bit of a zombie. Billy gave him a sympathetic little smile. "I can be off if you want."

.

Dom scrubbed his hands through his short hair. He was tired, but now it came to it, he wasn't sure he wanted to go to bed and be alone in the dark.

"If you want to go, you can," he said to his toes, rather than to Billy, fidgeting. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed though." He didn't want to impose, but he didn't want to come off as needy. 

Billy merely sat up on the sofa and patted the spot beside him, grabbing the remote to find some thing more interesting to watch.

.

As they settled into a calmer silence, Billy missed Dom's heavy warmth on him with a ferocity that was unexpected and kind of alarming. Traveling halfway around the world like this, so far away from all that he knew, was exciting, there was no doubt about that, but it was also a bit scary and sad; he'd gone to bed with a thick homesick feeling in his gut more than a few nights since he'd gotten here. Though he was getting along great with everyone here, he missed familiarity, the comfort of faces he'd known most of his life. Dom was the closest he had to familiar here, and he wouldn't have minded laying there together a bit longer.

"I may have to curl up here in a minute," he smiled a little, tugging at his hair with a yawn. "All that lunging and swashbuckling today took a lot out of me." When Dom didn't respond, he collapsed onto his side, pillowing his head in Dom's lap. That unprecedented connection they'd just made broke something in him, left him feeling open and silly. He snuggled his face into Dom's thigh. "Why're you always so warm?"

.

"Am I?" Dom murmured, less than half his attention on the telly, an old movie he'd seen several times and wagered Billy had as well. "Mum always said I was born in a weird winter heat wave. Made Dad run out to get quarts of ice cream in the weeks before I was born."

His heart gave a lurch to remember that Gran had flown down to Berlin for that event. There were photos in their family albums of him being held in her arms, staring up at her with wide eyes, one of the very first faces he'd seen. It suddenly occurred to him that she'd not even seen him reach twenty-three.

His fingers played in Billy's hair in effort to distract himself. Longer than his own at the moment, it was finer, with a reddish tinge, and started to curl after it gained more than an inch or two. He wondered what Billy looked like as a kid, if he had the typical shaggy hair of the era or if his parents kept it cropped. He asked quietly, and with genuine curiousness, "What were your parents like?"

.

It was a question Billy'd been asked countless times; he almost had his answer prepared like a Shakespearean monologue. But he wanted to give Dom more than his stock reply. He relaxed into his touch and closed his eyes, going back to that place he could always go to at the drop of a hat. "They were lovely. My childhood was a bit magical because of them. I might be idealizing them—I didn't get to see how I got on with them as an adult—but I don't think so." 

He arched into Dom's hand as it moved down to the nape of his neck. "My father was kind of a hippie, I guess you could say. He was very artistic, and in lots of different ways. He liked to sing and he loved to paint. Mum was fiery; very opinionated and independent. I think she really inspired him. That's why he was so crazy about her. They were crazy about each other, really. So I was spoiled in that regard. I didn't see the same thing with my friends' parents when I went over their houses." 

An image of their living room came into his head, dark and blurry around the edges. He loved that cozy little flat growing up, and certainly more now, made cozier by Dad's paintings and Mum's fine washables hanging everywhere. "Our flat smelled like my mum. She wore this perfume that followed her everywhere she went," he laughed a little, "and it was all over our flat, in every room. I can't say what it was exactly, but I know it when I smell it. Sometimes I'll smell it on someone when I'm walking down the street or something, and I'll have to stop in my tracks. It brings me right back to that time."

Billy opened his eyes, embarrassed to realize that there were tears in them—happy tears, but tears nonetheless. He fingered them stealthily away. I miss them more now than I ever have, he thought but didn't say.

.

Dom kept pushing his fingers through Billy's hair, surprised at how forthcoming he was being, how open. He wished he could have met Billy's parents. They sounded wonderful, and yes, maybe idealized, but in the very best way. Besides, Dom knew there were people like that, soulmates through and through, who never tired of each other even after years and kids and turmoil. It was that whole romanticized version of life everyone wanted in some way or another, that only a select few people achieved.

It explained Billy a bit as well. Billy was certainly independent and fiery, as well as talented in more than one way. They'd only done a little acting together as of yet, just quick run-throughs of a couple of scenes that made Peter clap his hands in delight. He'd seen not one, but two guitars in Billy's house, and knew he wrote music and sang. But their group had yet to hear Billy demonstrate these talents, something Dom was keen on, as Billy got such a mischievous glint in his eyes when they threatened to take him to a karaoke bar. Then there were the crazy ninja moves he put on in fight training, all the while pretending having a black belt was no biggie.

Billy seemed to fall asleep, Dom's hand still massaging through his hair, and eventually Dom had put his own head back for just a minute to close his eyes. It must have been more than a minute, because the next thing he knew, his phone was jerking them both out of it, the dark outside had deepened and the movie had shifted to the late news.

Billy sat up, rubbing his eyes, and Dom grabbed for his mobile off the coffee table. He dawdled, not wanting to answer, though he knew he didn't really have a choice.

It was his unexpectedly not his mum again, but his father on the line. He got up and took it in the kitchen.

"I was just calling to–" his father's voice came, sounding worn. "Well, I'm sure you know why I'm calling, son. Your mum asked me to." Dom heard a door shut across the line, his father likely going into a more private room, "She seems to think I can convince you to come home."

Dom sighed, looking blankly at Fran's flowers, still in the sink where he'd left them. "It's not that I don't want to go to the funeral, you know. It's just... this is a big thing, Dad, you know it's a big deal."

"I know, I understand that, but your mother is just... very upset about everything right now."

"Well how do you think I feel?" Dom shot back, firing right up, "I'm halfway around the fucking world, alright, I didn't get to say goodbye or anything. She's my gran too. Mum told me not to worry about it when I left and look what happens."

.

Billy contemplated whether or not he should go outside; this was definitely a conversation that warranted more privacy. 

He wondered what he would do in Dom's place. What did a funeral mean, really? He hadn't wanted to go to his mother's because he knew seeing the coffin would make it real. It didn't mean he didn't love her. He hadn't had a choice in the matter, though, Gran made sure of that. And he was ultimately glad he'd gone for Maggie's sake. Holding her as she convulsed with tears for two hours straight seemed more worthwhile than anything he could've done during the services.

That Dom was on the other side of the world—and an adult—made things a bit more complicated. There was a momentum here too now, one he probably didn't want to disrupt, maybe one he didn't think he could afford to.

.

"Don't turn this on your mother, Dominic," his dad's voice scolded. "Don't you do that to her now. She can't take it, so I won't have it. Understand?"

Dom bit his tongue, pouting in a way he were sure his father could picture, had done anytime he knew his dad was right and he didn't like it.

"Give me a reason why you won't come home," Austin said now, "Something I can tell Mum that will make sense."

"Because it's my bloody job, maybe?" Dom exploded, "Because it's the biggest job I've ever had and probably will ever have. Because I'm part of something amazing, and you don't even know how big this is, Dad, wait 'til you see what they're doing. Because I have people counting on me."

"And we don't count on you? Hmm?" his dad came back, "Our family doesn't count?"

"Don't do that," Dom's voice dropped hard, "Don't lay this on me. What the fuck does it matter if I go watch them put her in the ground? She's dead, Dad." His voice completely broke, having finally spoken the critical word, and he slid down to crouch against the cabinet on the floor, tears flowing back around his wobbly words. "It won't hurt any less if I'm there. Going home won't bring her any closer to me now, don't you get that?"

He was vaguely aware of Billy hovering near the kitchen door in the shadows, and oddly found himself strengthened by his silent support. Billy was one of those counting on him, perhaps the most important one, because he was more than a costar now, he was a friend.

He took a deep breath, "Tell Mum they'd let me go, but I don't want to. Gran wouldn't want me to. She'd tell you all to bugger off, you know she would."

He heard an airy laugh on the other end of the phone, "She probably would. She'd tell us to let you dream, wouldn't she."

Dom squeezed his eyes shut at that familiar and beloved euphemism. His dad promised to convey what he'd said to his mum, and after awkward goodbyes they rung off. He stayed sat on the linoleum, sniveling and mopping his eyes as Billy came into the kitchen.

.

Billy paced in the hall through the end of Dom's conversation with his father. He didn't want to intrude, but he wanted Dom to know he was there, and that he wasn't taking the situation lightly. When the kitchen fell silent, he came through the archway slowly, his heart clenching as he spotted Dom on the floor still clutching his mobile, eyes distant. 

He shuffled forward and lowered himself down to the floor opposite Dom, the tiles cold and unwelcoming. Dom didn't lift his eyes. "Hey." He leaned over and laid a hand over Dom's. "Everything alright?"

.

"I'm not wrong, am I?" he asked, brushing irritably at fresh tears, "Am I doing something wrong?"

He pushed the heels of both hands into his eyes, fucking tired and tired of crying and frustrated and broken. What he'd said made sense in his eyes. He could picture his whole family gathering together, supporting each other. It wasn't as if his absence would be a great blow, it wasn't him they should be thinking about. He feared they thought he was being selfish, staying for the sake of a job. An amazing job which Gran had given him nothing but encouragement for. Maybe he was.

"It's not about me. I don't understand why they're making it that way," he said, turning the phone off, muttering, "I don't want to think about this anymore."

He was starting to understand what Billy had said about the world not making sense, and it was that understanding that had him crawl over and cling to him again, just for a closeness to something that did. He was an adult and he was expected to take it like one, but he found he just wanted it to all go away, to pretend it didn't happen. "Sorry I'm such a prat. I just don't want to be alone."

.

Billy gathered Dom close even as he felt his own fatigue pulling at him. Dom couldn't have been much better off, having spent the entire day contemplating and beating himself up like this. "I'm not going anywhere," he gently assured. Dom still felt tense under his hands.

He tilted his head down, trying to get a look at Dom's face. "Come on," he gave him a little nudge. "I think I have a better idea." When Billy started rising to his feet, Dom followed but reluctantly, still clinging to Billy's shirt by his fingertips. Billy couldn't help but smile, amused at how utterly young he looked standing there. "Come on." He took Dom by the hand and led him down the hall to his bedroom.

Billy'd already stayed over Dom's a couple of times, albeit on the couch, but that enabled a comfort with this that wouldn't have been there otherwise. He wordlessly pulled a pair of flannels from Dom's dresser—a bit small around the waist for him, he knew, but not enough that he'd turn them down for a night of sleep. Dom followed suit in a daze, pulling off his denims, stumbling a bit as they pooled at his feet.

Billy would ordinarily think more than twice about providing this level of comfort for a male friend, but with Dom it was second nature to pull him down to the mattress and let him burrow into his chest. The bed still hadn't been made; Billy wondered how long Dom stayed in it this morning. He reached behind his head for an afghan, bunched up between the pillows at the headboard, and shook it out one-handed, laying it over his friend. He liked to think he was good at this sort of thing, comforting without babying or being intrusive.

He knew Dom didn't want to talk about the situation at hand anymore, but Billy knew that anything else would seem too trivial right now, so he started softly humming a tune down into his hair, filling the silence with something he hoped would be welcome.

.

Dom lay there in the dark, feeling drained and stupid clinging to Billy like this. But it helped, it made him feel more secure, made him feel like someone was on his side.

He feared the morning, and the cold clarity of waking knowing Gran was gone and he'd never get to see her again. He feared going to work and seeing pity and over polite apologies on the faces of everyone he knew, of being tiptoed around. But he feared being stuck alone doing nothing more than pitying himself, which is why he was resolved to go.

Billy's shirt smelled like fabric softener and aftershave and him, something that had been a constant since the very day he arrived. His humming reminded him of Gran, the way she'd hummed while she cooked with Dom beside her. He snuggled in closer and closed his eyes, welcoming the pull of sleep.

.

Billy woke with a jolt in the middle of the night, uncomfortable and ponging a bit, his shirt clinging in all the wrong places. Dom had made his way over to the opposite end of the bed at some point, facing away from him. When Billy rose to a half-sitting position to work his shirt off of his arms, Dom turned to him with wide eyes that obviously hadn't seen much sleep. "Oh. Hey." He took in Dom's expression with a grimace. "Sorry, m'shirt was suffocating me."

Dom nodded, looking distracted and distraught. Everything he'd said earlier, all the fears and concerns he'd expressed to Billy and to his father, was skittering across his face. 

Billy rolled back onto his side, facing him, waiting. Concerned as he was, it was nice to feel needed like this.

.

Dom turned onto his back and staring at the dark ceiling, twisting the sheets in his hands. He'd already lost his shirt when he'd woke up; he never slept clothed if he could help it, but he left the flannels on for Billy's sake.

He'd been lost in his head for a good fifteen minutes at least before Billy woke, just remembering. Every memory that came to mind was one of family. A particular one was floating in his head of a time when they'd lived in Düsseldorf and Gran had come to visit during Karneval. She'd loved the madness of it, the parades and the fun. Dom had been around ten, and he remembered thinking how Gran was like a big kid, and how much he loved that. They'd gone to the big cathedral on Ash Wednesday and still she winked and waggled her eyebrows in church making him and Matt giggle behind their hands in line. Every memory he had of Gran was full of joy and failing that, at least there was always family.

"I haven't gone to church since I moved out on my own," he said, because Billy seemed to want him to explain. "I don't even know what I believe in anymore."

He turned his head to look at him. "Is it wrong of me, not to go home? I mean, am I... am I going to miss something crucial I need to... put this away?"

.

"That's your decision, Dom. It's not up to anyone to tell you how to grieve." He could tell by the look on Dom's face that these were empty words. "When Mum died, Gran practically had to hold me at gunpoint to get me to the church. It wasn't that I didn't love my mum or want to say goodbye to her—quite the opposite. I just didn't want to do it in public. It'd been hard enough doing it with my dad the year before." Dom listened intently, encouraging him silently to continue. "There's all this ceremony and expectation about it that I hated, you know? You have to greet people and accept their hugs and their condolences, when all you want to do is be left alone. I feel like it's more for them than for you."

He took a deep breath. "If you know your mum needs you, then that's a different story. I knew Maggie needed me, and that's what got me there that day. I pretty much told everyone else to fuck off," he laughed a little, then added more seriously, "I just stood next to her silently and held her hand the entire time. I would have hated myself if I hadn't been there to do that."

.

Dom nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "I think it's less that Mum needs me than she doesn't want me this far away for so long. I'm the baby, you know, so she never wanted to let me leave the house. Even when I went to uni she wanted me to stay at home."

He knew in his heart that his mum just wanted all her family close, and him wanting to stay was being taken out of context as him rebelling as usual. And Billy was right, he didn't want to say goodbye in public, that was a very personal thing, something he held very close, as so many things were to him.

He turned on his side to face Billy, reminded oddly of having a mate over as a young boy, whispering secrets across the pillows. "I don't like that I don't have my family in this, but I don't want to leave either. I don't like being stuck in the middle. Mum has Dad and Matt and her sister and my cousins, probably. I don't have anyone. Except you."

.

Billy exhaled, completely taken aback by that remark. Though he was still partly asleep, he felt himself flushing. "'S not true, Dom. Unless you want it to be." At that, something sparked in Dom's eyes, and Billy's cheeks grew even hotter in the dark. "I meant that if you want everyone else to fuck off tomorrow, I'll take care of it."

.

"I don't know what I want. Not yet," Dom yawned, snuggling deeper into his pillow, "Just have to see how it goes."

He closed his eyes, feel better having voiced his thoughts. He'd probably avoid Astin, since he was proving to be both overcurious and overfond of his own voice. Elijah with his big blue emotive powers onscreen would probably be all hugs, and Dom wouldn't entirely mind that. Orlando, Stuart and everyone else he wasn't sure on at all. 

He finally drifted off, sleeping perhaps not peacefully, but deeper than he had at any time in the previous twenty-four hours, and didn't wake until the alarm on Billy's watch went off.

.

"Fuck," Billy muttered, pressing the button on the side of his watch with his eyes still shut. He feared the possibility of having to wake Dom on such a morning, but when he opened his eyes, Dom was already awake. In the sunlight coming through the gap between the blinds and the windowsill, he looked wrung dry.

"We've got half an hour before we have to leave." He threw his arms over his head, stretching. It suddenly sunk in, just how intimate this morning was, the two of them side by side in bed and shirtless, after a night of tears and shared secrets.

.

Dom had woken with the sun, and lay still as the dawn built, listening to Billy's steady breath. He'd woke with a sullen lucidity. He felt as if his childhood had officially ended. Which was stupid, and Gran would tell him so, if she'd been here. Gran of all adults in his life was happy to behave like a child, to laugh at fart jokes, ride a carousel, play pretend, let her imagination go wild. But it felt very much like he'd lost the one person he was close to who fully supported his dream, even from it's ridiculous Star Wars driven origins.

Now it was his dream, but at the same time it was work, and he was expected to be there at arse o'clock in the morning (or earlier, as Pete had been telling them would be the case after filming began). And when Billy's watch went off this early, he knew he'd really arrived as a working actor. It was with a certain bittersweetness.

He nodded at Billy's words. He felt a lot like a prat, having cried all over his friend the night before, but he was fairly sure it would never be spoken of in jest. Billy had been more than tolerant, and Dom was grateful for it as he took a deep breath and sat up on the edge of the mattress. He rubbed his face, feeling almost chapped from crying. "Think I need a shower. There's cereal in the cupboards, if you want."

.

"Thanks." Billy gave Dom a warm rub on the shoulder before making his way out of bed, an idea forming. He wasn't the greatest chef in the world, but it was hard to botch eggs. 

When he took stock of Dom's fridge, he was happy to discover that not only did he have eggs—he had bacon, sausage, bread, and a plethora of other things he could use, but unfortunately didn't really have the time for. He kept it simple, quickly frying up a batch of scrambled eggs and sausage, and making a pile of toast. He heard his own Gran's voice in his head—You have to eat—and smiled as he set out a glass of orange juice for Dom.

Billy, for his part, was a bit too on edge to sit and eat properly; he felt he had an active hand in how today would go for Dom, and he didn't want to botch that. He stood by the stove, munching on a sausage link straight out of the pan, when Dom shuffled into the kitchen, barefoot and looking considerably better.

.

Dom felt like he could stand in the hot spray for ages, reabsorbing all the water he'd lost from crying like a desert plant during the rare rainstorm. He was still a bit torn on going to work today at all. If he had his choice, he'd stay home with Billy and they could do whatever it took to distract him, watch movies, play video games, eat and drink ample amounts of alcohol. But he had no excuse to keep Billy from work. And if he was going to be polite and let Billy get a quick shower in before they had to leave, he couldn't stay in much longer. He gave himself a perfunctory wash and got out.

In his bedroom he could already smell breakfast cooking, the waft of sausages made his stomach growl. He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and made his way to his kitchen.

"Guess you didn't want cereal, then?" he asked, arching a brow as Billy directed him to sit before a plate and tuck in. He reached immediately for the juice and drained it in one, desperate for liquids. He picked up his fork and tried the eggs.

He was touched Billy thought to cook breakfast rather than go for cereal. And that he was still here tolerating Dom at all after last night. "Thanks, Bill. For... you know, everything. You didn't have to."

.

"Sure I did," Billy responded simply, giving Dom's shoulder another rub before he started down the hall to the bathroom. "Just be a minute."

No spare toothbrush in sight, he decided to flush the nastiness from his tongue with a bit of mouthwash. As he patted his mouth dry with a washcloth, he examined his sleep-deprived face in the mirror and sighed. It was a little alarming, this need he had to nurture Dom, and so soon. He'd always had a protective streak, there was no denying that, but he wasn't sure he'd have been going to such lengths if it were Elijah or Orlando coping with the loss of a family member.

Billy felt his face pinching with concern as he tested the water with his hand. He often wondered if there would ever come a day when someone would volunteer to take care of him—or when he would finally welcome that.

It wasn't until he had a head full of shampoo that he realized he didn't have a change of clothing. He rinsed quickly and pulled a fresh towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist and grabbing up his pants and denims again as he flung the bathroom door open, letting the cool air in. He shuffled back into the kitchen, pleased to find Dom tucking into a second helping of eggs. "Do you've a shirt I can borrow? It'll probably be tight, but."

.

"Yeah, in the dresser," Dom spoke around a mouthful. Billy made his way back to the bedroom to dress, and Dom rose to pull the orange juice from the fridge, gulping from the carton. He finished it off and went for the cabinet to put it in the bin, seeing that Billy had also pulled Fran's wilting flowers out of the sink and tucked them into a pint glass filled with water on the countertop. Something about that made his heart give a little twist.

He had people here to support him. Fran might as well be their mum, the way she was responsible for scheduling and taking care of their housing and emergencies like this, and still had the notion to go out of her way to think of little things like sending flowers. The guys were nice, for the most part, and he felt foolish to think they'd taunt him over something like this. And if they did, Billy would have something to say about it. That made him feel better, that he had some sort of shield. Still, he felt nervous, afraid of the way his heart could so easily respond to a misplaced word before his brain and throw him into a state, as easily as the conversation with his dad last night.

Full of food and the headache of exhaustion and dehydration starting to wane, he felt a little more capable of tackling the day, watching as Billy remerged putting his watch back on and searching for his shoes before he forked up the remaining eggs and sausage from the skillet, giving Dom a cheeky shrug. He gave the skillet a bit of a scrub but left it to drain in the sink with the breakfast plates.

Dom pocketed his keys and gestured to the door. "Ready when you are."

.

Billy watched Dom carefully as they made their way to his car. It felt wrong; he should've been driving. Still, he resisted the urge to offer—Dom needed a friend, not a parent.

He sank into the passenger side with a heavy sigh and yawned, rotating his neck around. He was still a bit sore from the day before. 

Dom took a considerable pause before putting the key in the ignition, his whole body tight with tension. Billy had to hand it to him: he was certainly putting on a brave face, considering all that he'd been through the day before.

It'll be fine, he tried to tell him with his eyes as he reached over and gave his thigh an encouraging squeeze. Dom gave him a half-smile in return as he pulled out of the driveway.

.

Dom drove in silence, his thoughts turning inward.

At home, his parents and likely most of his family would be drawing together by now. Perhaps they'd spent the day going through Gran's house, all her things, packing some to sell and others to divide amongst each other.

It seemed sort of bizarre that he was off learning swordfighting, wrestling and horseback riding in preparation for what was essentially a gamble. As much as they all thought this film would be big (and after seeing some of the set building and prep work, they believed in what Peter was doing), the fact of the matter was that if the picture didn't sell, no matter how much and long they worked, it could amount to nothing as far as their careers were concerned.

And now, it also counted towards Dom's own parents' opinion of what he was doing. They were supportive, but only to a point. If they felt in any way that he'd be better off being a teacher or something more employable, they would expect him to put this away, particularly when it took him away at such a time.

It only made him more determined to do his best.

Billy sat beside him rubbing his shoulders, trying to massage the ache out before he needed to use them again. Dom knew the feeling, he could feel it in his own muscles, having not moved much at all yesterday. "Do I need to go easy on you, old man?" he murmured the half-hearted tease as they pulled up to the big warehouse that served for a training gym.

"Don't go easy on me," he answered the anticipated question he could see in Billy's face. "Not today, Bill."

.

"Wouldn't think of it," Billy tossed back with a smile before opening the car door. He'd lay off for the time being, at least off of Dom; he was prepared to do his best to keep the others at bay.

Elijah was smoking a cigarette by the front entrance, off to the side. Billy still couldn't get over how he could make any setting look like a bloody painting. He grimaced, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as Lij's smoke was carried in his direction by the wind. Billy liked a cigarette every once in a while, especially when it was accompanied by a glass of scotch, but never in the fucking morning—it just wasn't right.

Elijah barely acknowledged him, choosing to keep his eyes trained on Dom as he made his way over, shielding the sun from his eyes. "Hey, man." His lips formed a straight line that was meant to be a smile in Lij's facial language, Billy was quickly learning. He waited until Dom was a mere couple of feet away before dropping his voice. "How you doing?"

Billy watched silently, flexing his fingers, poised for action at a moment's notice.

.

Dom inhaled, jingling his keys. "I've been better."

The look on Elijah's face was cautious, but his eyes sympathetic. He crushed out his smoke under his sneaker and approached with simple intent, giving him a good tight hug. Dom let him and returned it, glad for the kid's knack for subtlety when it counted.

Dom liked Elijah. For a kid who grew up in the business, Dom found him not only more mature than he'd expected, but he had an ingrained ability to read a situation and act accordingly. He was also gullible and trusting to the extreme, something he and Billy had already begun exploiting, all in good fun. Today though, Dom didn't think he had a lot in him.

Lij let him go with a pat on the shoulder, stepping back and fixing his attention down the street. "You're a little early. That'll be Orlando," he gestured to the Jeep barreling up the road. "Sean's inside already."

"Right," Dom murmured. He recognized the warning there and appreciated it too. A glance at Billy saw him give a tiny nod in return.

.

Billy made his way through the heavy doors, inhaling that already too-familiar smell that didn't carry nearly the same comfort as the scent of a black box theater. He missed doing plays, he thought, with a ferocity he hadn't expected. 

"Hey, Sean." He raised a hand to him as he shuffled across the wide expanse of space. 

The Two Towers dangled from Sean's hand, but his eyes were fixated on Dom as he came through the front entrance. "Morning, Bill. Watch your step, guys—they washed the floors not too long ago." He stood, taking his own advice, his feet cautious as they approached Dom. "Hey," he pulled him into a bear hug. "I'm really sorry."

Billy preemptively cringed; he could just see the series of questions at the back of Sean's throat, waiting to be released.

.

"What are you doing here, hmm?" Sean muttered in his ear, "You should be with your family."

Dom was okay with accepting hugs. He figured there will be a few of those and apologies and pity and shite he'd have to take, but this wasn't on his list. He pushed Sean off, not roughly, but firmly, and continued into the big practice room.

"Dom?" Sean kept after him, even as Billy stepped up and physically stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, "Why–"

"Don't tell me what I should do, alright?" Dom tossed the comment over his shoulder. He headed to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, twisting off the cap to take a drink as Orlando bustled through the doors. He took several deep, calming breaths, willing himself to just work and get through this. It would be better once they all just got it in their heads and let it be.

"Alright, son?" This came from the old swordmaster, Bob, quietly under the hubbub of the others' voices.

Dom nodded. Bob mirrored him and held out one of the thickly padded practice swords. "Work hard, then. It helps."

.

Billy physically turned Sean and ushered him a good distance away with an arm around his shoulders. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper, wary of the acoustics in the warehouse. "Just leave him be, he needs some time. Offering condolences is fine, but don't ask any questions—he's still a bit tetchy."

"Would Pete not let him go home?" Sean asked with all-too-genuine concern. 

"No," Billy shook his head, "'S not that. He just decided not to." Before Sean could open his mouth again, Billy clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't ask me why, and don't ask him why. I'm not entirely sure, and it doesn't matter, anyway. He's doing his best. He had a really rough day yesterday."

Sean's eyes shifted to Dom across the room, filling with empathy.

"Hey," Billy grabbed his chin and turned his face back to him. "I know you're concerned, but give him some space today—that's the best thing you can do for him. He's not up for talking much." He laid his hands on Sean's chest. "Alright?"

Sean nodded, looking slightly guilty now.

Billy tried giving him a reassuring smile. He gave his pecs a feel. "You're getting buff, Seanie." 

Thankfully, that brought a genuine smile out of him. "Shut up," he gave Billy a shove. "I'm supposed to be a fat slob, remember?"

.

Dom hefted the sword and nodded to Bob again. He intended to work hard.

Orlando had ducked his head to Elijah, the pair of them surreptitiously glancing his way as they spoke, while Billy had already pulled Sean aside and gave him a talking to, going to Orlando and Elijah after. He warmed at that. Billy may have been half asleep when he'd said it, but the fact that he was willing to be a mouthpiece to the guys was something.

He focused his attention to the tumbling mats where a few of the stunties were already practicing throws. Billy was something. Dom had liked him immediately, as worried as he'd been before they'd met. He felt weird about last night, though, torn between being embarrassed and impressed and grateful with the way Billy read him and then took him in stride at his worst.

He set the water aside on the bench, hefting the sword in his hand. If being held and coddled by someone trustworthy enough to accept that was off the agenda, then maybe beating the hell out of things was today's coping mechanism.

With the guys approaching him, he steeled himself to it and lifted his chin.

.

Billy was good for repeating his little speech to the others, and Orlando and Elijah were certainly more receptive to it than Sean, but there was nothing he could do to prevent them from throwing long looks in Dom's direction.

It was funny: he'd have thought that adults, young though they were, would be better at handling something like this than kids, but he distinctly remembered his mates at school doing a better job of fucking off when he was twelve and losing his mind. There was something to be said for inexperience. It didn't help that they were dealing with actors, he supposed; there was this overwhelming need to emote and empathize all the time. It quickly became exhausting. Billy learned that the hard way in drama school.

Rather than threaten to poke Orlando and Elijah's eyes out, he made sure to stand nearby and keep himself available to Dom as much as possible.

.

Dom took the opportunity to stretch a bit while Bob waited for everyone to arrive, rotating his shoulders and twisting the kinks out of his back. Billy joined him as he sat on the mats to grab his toes and stretch out his hamstrings. He gave Billy a quiet smile for his trouble.

Bob had them paired off and going through some of the simple moves they'd been working on to warm up. Stuart stumbled in ten minutes late, earning himself a few choice words Bob didn't bother pulling him off to the side to say this time.

Dom watched this exchange rather brazenly, and got a pair of fingers tossed his way from the Irishman for it, but at this point he didn't care. They hadn't hit it off at all. Stuart was too intense for Dom's taste, and he was approaching this role like it was a chore. Even Orlando, who had gotten closest to him in the first few weeks, had pulled away and gravitated more to the hobbits and Brett now. The tension of it was throwing everyone off. Dom worried his lip, concerned for a minute about how he'd brushed Sean off earlier. He didn't want to start anything and end up in the same boat.

He shook his head and turned back, going through the choreography again, speeding it up, striking his blows against Billy's sword harder, faster. He knew Billy was sore, but at the same time, he wanted to work off some pent-up aggression. "Come on, Bill. Don't hold back."

.

Billy grimaced, bracing himself before the next round of hits. Much as he told himself to hit hard, his muscles weren't cooperating, and not from overuse. After seeing Dom so broken yesterday, holding him tight until he was wrung dry, he couldn't find it in him to really go at him.

Dom's eyes were wild though now, his body vibrating with a desperate energy. He really needed this.

Billy inhaled deeply, taking a moment to put his acting face on. He tried his best to pretend he and Dom were sworn enemies, Shakespearean rivals in their final battle. He lifted his sword, but didn't get far before making contact with Dom's. Tiny though Dom was in comparison, he gave just as good as Billy was giving him, and the more they sparred, the more Dom strayed from the routine, coming at Billy from all sides, it seemed.

Any other day, Billy would've called him out on it with a none-too-friendly The fuck, Dom? (or, more than likely, a smile and a Trying to kill me, eh?), but not today.

.

Dom lashed out, blow for blow with a fury. Not against Billy, but against the way of the world, against coincidence that kept him away from home, against his parents, and his own bitterness. Their padded swords clattered against each other, the pair of them grunting with the force, beginning to sweat. 

Billy was better at this than any of the rest of them, except Bob, and still Dom was edging him backward, shouting wordless rage that had both of them blazing at each other. He unleashed every he had at him until Billy had to dodge a near miss to his head. Dom realized his mistake with the stunned look in Billy's eyes and threw his sword down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Billy's own chest heaved obviously beneath the tight fit of his borrowed tee, his eyes sharp and burning with a little anger, but mostly empathy.

Dom stood up, stumbling forward to hug him. "Sorry. It's not you," he murmured close to his ear. Feeling Billy's arms rise to circle his waist, he sighed with relief, an overheated burn under both of their skins, and conscious of the eyes of everyone else in the room. He couldn't be arsed to care what they thought about him. Billy understood, and that was enough.

.

Billy held him gently, trying to will the nerves out from under his skin. "'S alright, I know." He listened to Dom breathe, trying to remember how he and Maggie fought their way out of what they went through. "Let's try again, but focus on the moves. Put it all into that focus, you know?"

Dom pulled away first, nodding and clearing his throat, avoiding the eyes of the others. 

"And watch my head," Billy added with a playful glare, readying himself again.

Dom forced the start of the smile before shutting his eyes and breathing deeply, centering himself. He flexed his fingers, working the fury out of them, then picked his sword up again. He eyed the length of it guiltily.

Billy steeled his muscles, still scared but oddly trusting of Dom. He was confident that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice, or worse.

.

Dom worked to slow his breathing, feeling the weight of the sword in his hand. It was no one's fault but his own for losing control, swinging wide and wildly and nearly taking Billy's head off (or at least giving him a hell of a bump, padding could only do so much). Anger didn't solve anything, particularly here and about dealing with this. He knew that, and was surprised by it getting the better of him. He was surprised Bob didn't tell him so and take him down a notch, like he ordinarily did when Dom or any of them got cocky.

He rolled his shoulders and struck his starting stance again, trying to do what Billy said and focused on the routine they were set, going through each motion. They could do it fairly seamlessly, if he concentrated, and through the next pass, Bob was calling over to tell him it was better.

Another three times had them doing it quickly, and Dom felt more centered with himself, seeing the encouraging smile come back to Billy's face. They sat down to rest, Dom pulling another bottle from the fridge and handing it to Billy while Orlando worked with his pair of short swords. Sean and Elijah sat nearby.

"Dunno where that came from," he said again, looking Billy over speculatively, watching him trying to arch the ache out of his back. "My bed didn't really help either, eh? It's softer than yours."

.

"How d'you know that?" Billy asked lightly, furrowing his brow at Dom. Then he remembered: Dom stayed over one of his first nights in town, one of their first nights out drinking together. Though they'd already spent the better part of two or three days together, Billy was still taken aback when Dom laid out horizontal across his mattress, back arching ballerina-like over the side, and moaned, "Can I sleep here?" Billy smiled down at his feet, remembering. "Right. How could I forget? Took me twenty minutes to get you lying properly. I was more pissed than you were. Should've just cuddled up with you and let my head hang off the end of the bed." 

Come to think of it, Billy thought in a haze, that may have been what'd actually happened. He could vaguely recall waking up sprawled, one of Dom's legs thrown haphazardly across his stomach, his own face in Dom's armpit. 

"'S not the bed," he assured Dom, still rubbing his lower back. "I'm an old bastard, we've been over this. I'll need a walker by the end of today."

.

Dom wrapped his arms around his knees, darkening a bit. The last time he'd seen her, Gran had had to use a walker. And she'd hated it, having gone from a more or less healthy and independent woman of her age to having difficulty getting to the loo and back.

But Billy didn't know that, and Dom wasn't going to tell him. He remembered the night Billy referred to, barely. The pair of them had gotten properly wasted together, essential bonding, really. Dom had still been in a hotel room at that point, and Billy's flat was far more welcoming.

"Are you guys sleeping together already?" Elijah blurted, and then had the grace to look guilty when Sean punched him in the arm for it.

Dom looped a hand around Billy's shoulder and dragged him in close. "Jealous? I imagine Christine is not quite so receptive to taking in a bed buddy." He was going for smug, but it didn't quite make it that far.

.

Billy leaned into Dom, glad for the turn in his mood, even if it was obviously put-on. That Dom was at least trying to engage with all of them was a good sign.

He got stuck on Elijah's little remark, though. He hadn't considered Dom that way, at least not yet. It wasn't atypical for him to have delayed attraction, especially when it came to men, but he and Dom were so attached already, it was almost too obvious. Still, he couldn't say he hadn't noticed how alluring Dom was—or maybe provocative was the better word. Always strutting around with that cocky swagger, already pushing Billy's buttons in that gravely voice with that accompanying burn of a stare, then melting seamlessly into a mischievous but modest schoolboy. Then there was the way he wore clothes, and the onslaught of affection, now being a great example. 

Sean interrupted this train of thought with a surprising admission: "I have no reason to be jealous. Billy's the one who kissed me at that party last weekend."

"Hey. That was a private moment, Sean—I'm hurt that you'd kiss and tell so easily." Billy braced himself with a hand on Dom's chest. "And I'm sure Christine would be receptive if she knew who you were propositioning for a third."

.

"You keep your hands off my wife," Sean eyed Billy furtively, "Don't think I haven't seen that Scottish charm in action already."

Dom tried to recall this party, the birthday of one of the stunties he didn't really know well. It had been sort of awkward, being invited to a party simply because everyone he knew here was going, and he'd drank a lot. Billy was friendly with absolutely everyone, so naturally he'd made the rounds. Dom only vaguely remembered chatting up some girl from the crew only to watch her leave with Orlando, but had shrugged it off.

"Hence the kissing?" Dom queried, looking back and forth between them, "To what did Sean owe this great pleasure? Inquiring minds want to know."

.

"Care to answer that, Sean?" Billy leveled a playfully expectant look at him.

Sean spluttered. "Why should I answer it? You're the one who kissed me on the mouth! With tongue."

"Och, there wasn't any tongue." Billy gave him a light smack on the soft part of his stomach, before leaning into Dom conspiratorially. "Sean was making eyes at me the whole night, going on and on about my accent and my rippling biceps. I had to give him what he wanted. It was only natural."

Elijah cackled. "I'm totally telling Chris."

"You will do no such thing," Sean protested, a little too viciously.

"Bill, I knew you were a ladykiller but not a mankiller. Aside from Orlando." He shot a look at the Elf across the room. "He should at least know about this—he's already bought the drapes."

.

Dom wrangled Billy in a light headlock, arching a brow, reaching over to squeeze said bicep. "Rippling."

He glanced over at Orlando himself, watching him twirling the swords while Bob called out pointers. His future seemed pretty secure, with his Hollywood good looks and a role that promised he'd get plenty of the great heroics, even in a pair of tights and a blonde wig.

He looked sideways at Elijah and Sean, both of them already entrenched in that world. Sean so far in it he knew that he didn't quite understand the world outside of it, and Elijah so grounded and familiar with both worlds that neither fazed him in the least.

He and Billy were a pair of nobodies who fell into this by luck and chance. He wondered if Billy wanted the same thing he did at the end of this. He wondered if anyone in his family, someone he'd lost, had wanted to see him on the big screen.

Dom let go of Billy and lay back on the mat, sighing deeply. He wished this hadn't happened. Not now, but at a better time for him and his schedule, when he had time for it. And that was an awful, horrible, selfish thing to even string into a thought. He got up and strode outside, leaning against the cool metal siding, pissed at himself for even thinking such a thing.

.

The others looked after Dom with concern, but Billy merely shook his head at them. This would be par for the course, Billy figured, for at least the next few days, maybe the next few weeks. He couldn't go after Dom all the time—none of them could. Much as his company was welcome the night before, Dom ultimately needed to be left alone, work through this in his own head and heart.

He couldn't deny that he was worried, but he also had complete faith that Dom would come out of it better, stronger, and ready to take on this project with him. There was an ambition in him, an almost manic need that was both admirable and sometimes off-putting. Billy'd never seen it in himself, even at his most dissatisfied with his life in Glasgow. Dom had come bursting into the costume trailer with it that first day.

Billy turned to see Bob striding in his direction with purpose. He gave him an encouraging smile but steeled himself.

"Billy," he spoke with his usual slow elegance, "perhaps Dom should be paired with another opponent for today."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." Billy ushered Bob aside. "He's got a lot on his mind, and there aren't many people he wants to talk to right now, let alone engage in combat with," he finished with the start of a smile.

"I understand, I understand," Bob said, searching for his own argument, and just from his tone, Billy knew he wouldn't be winning this one. "Part of my job is keeping everyone here safe. It's probably the biggest part of my job, actually. This is a professional suggestion, not a personal one. Please take it."

.

Dom sulked by himself for several minutes, wishing Elijah would come out so he could bum a smoke, though he knew very well Bob never let anyone have a cigarette during practice. He was disgusted with himself and his thoughts, guilty and upset that he couldn't fall back into the usual banter so easily, that even little things took him back to some memory.

In the end, he went back in feeling as out of sorts as he'd left with, and saw Bob talking to Stuart, and Billy pacing back and forth near Orlando, who idly twirled one of his short swords and gave Dom another repentant glance.

Bob approached with Stuart trailing. "I'd like to see the pair of you to work together for a bit, alright?"

"Why?" Dom asked, his chin going up automatically.

Bob merely raised his grey brows to say he wasn't about to argue, handing Dom his sword again. "Because I say." He turned Dom aside with a gentle hand to his shoulder, his voice soft, "Listen to me now. I understand you are upset, but you chose to work today, did you not?"

Dom nodded stonily.

"Then work, lad. Focus. And let the feelings come out, within reason. I see another wild swing like before and I'll send you home myself."

Dom nodded again, glancing over at Billy, whose eyebrows pinched together, his mouth a thin line.

Stuart nodded to him, his own terseness with the situation evident. "Sorry about your grandpa."

"My gran."

"Oh," Stuart shrugged, his Dublin accent tripping over an apology that wasn't in the least sincere, "Right. Sorry."

Dom's nostrils flared, but he turned his attention to Bob, who demonstrated their latest routine with one of the stuntmen.

.

Billy'd had the feeling for a while now that Stuart was on his way out. He'd seen attitudes like his all too often in theatre, and though theatre directors were often quirky enough to tolerate it—even encourage it—that was never the case on a film set. There were simply too many people and too much technical shite to worry about to coddle one burgeoning ego. He'd never thought, though, that Dom slicing Stuart's head open would be the reason for his departure.

He reluctantly paired up with Orlando, glad for the reprieve from Dom but hesitant to leave him out of his sight, even for one round of choreography. 

Orlando leveled lost puppy eyes at him. "D'you think he'll be all right?"

Billy nodded, feigning assurance. "Yeah." Dom being all right wasn't the issue; Billy knew he'd get there eventually. He just wasn't sure he'd be around to see it happen. There was always the possibility of him being sent home "for his own good" or something to that effect. Billy braced himself, leaning into his starting mark. It'd only been a couple of weeks, but he couldn't imagine having another Merry.

.

After watching Bob walk through the first several steps of the new choreography, Dom turned to Stuart and took his stance. Stuart laughed, shaking his head, and did the same, going through the moves they'd been set with more or less perfect accuracy. Bob went through the second set, and they copied, then the third and last. Afterwards they went through the lot, slowly. For his part, Stuart listened and emulated. He wasn't bad at the swordwork. He wasn't a bad actor either, though it had been obvious he clashed with Peter on the delivery of things.

The second time, they sped it up and went for it harder, and the third, harder still. Stuart paused to breathe, laughing a bit and shaking his head.

"What?" Dom dropped the word, hard and low.

"’The fuck are you still doing here, man?" Stuart asked. "You have a reason to leave."

"What are you still doing here, then?" Dom readied himself for another go. "You're the one who’s so fucked off about it."

Stuart attacked, "I signed on same as you did."

"Yeah," Dom grunted under the forced of Stuart's blow, understanding now Bob’s reason to switch partners, and went at him harder, "I didn't get the part I wanted either, but I'm not complaining left and right."

"It isn't going the way I thought," Stuart lunged ferociously. “Not moving fast enough.”

"You're right, it isn't, and you aren’t," Dom blocked, and tried to move as Stuart struck off routine fast and clipped him hard in the forearm.

"Oi!" Bob roared, moving lightning fast in that way that was so unexpected for a man his age. While he thrust Stuart away to the wall through a thick string of name calling, Dom opened his arms wide, ignoring what would be a heavy bruise later, and invited more with a little come on gesture with his fingers, "Which of us will still be here at the end of the week, Paddy, eh? Me. While you're out taking it up the ringpiece from Pete. Fucking cunt."

.

A thick silence fell after that remark, stretching and suffocating everyone in the room. They'd all been talking shit about Stuart since at least the second week—and it was quickly becoming apparent to everyone, including Stuart. 

Much as Dom's little outburst amused Billy (more evidence that they were cut from the same proud, temperamental cloth), he didn't want him to suffer the same fate. He'd have to give him a pointer or two about cooling his blood, no small task for a twenty-two year-old Mancunian. To be fair, Billy was having a tough time not popping Stuart one at the moment. At this rate, Pete's cast would be dropping like flies.

While Bob ushered—or pushed, strong old bastard—Stuart to the door, mumbling something about him needing to take a walk, Dom stood awkwardly, trying to shake off what'd just happened.

Billy approached with caution. "Let me see your arm," he urged quietly.

.

"It's fine," Dom growled, eyes still on the door, where they could see Stuart getting a fair verbal reaming from the old swordmaster through the windows. "Prick did it on purpose."

Still, he let Billy look at the spot on the outside of his forearm. The weapons were padded, but it didn't mean they couldn't still inflict a decent injury, and the bump swelling there was more painful than Dom would own up to. Billy's fingers skated very lightly over it, his own jaw setting hard as Bob returned, fuming. 

"I don't think I need to stress that this is not playtime," he drilled them all hard with his eyes, "Tomorrow we move to real blades, and even if you're never handed a weapon with a real edge, it doesn't mean it can't take off a limb, or an ear and end any one of your careers. I see one more of you go off the choreography and you're as benched as Stuart is."

He looked hard at all of them and approached Dom, taking a look at his arm himself. "Not hurt?" Dom shook his head. "Right. You work with Sala, then. Bill, back with Orlando. Go on."

.

Bob's words dropped heavy on the bottom of Billy's stomach, grounding him. Orlando fidgeted visibly before him. He remembered all the things his blessed friend had shared on the plane ride in, his fears and his doubts, all with that now familiar enthusiastic candor. With even less experience than he and Dom, he must've been fucking terrified, Billy realized. 

Billy raised his sword and stuck his tongue out at Orlando, but he didn't even crack a smile. "'S the matter?" he whispered.

Orlando shifted from foot to foot, pretending to ready himself, though sparring seemed to be the last thing on his mind. "That was all too fucking real, huh, mate?"

"You'll be fine," Billy said lightly, certain that at least that was true. "Just do your job, brush your long blonde hair, and don't be a prick."

At that, Orlando finally grinned despite himself and readied his sword.

On Billy's count, they went through the motions, but it was only that: going through the motions. Billy found himself distracted, the image of Dom's forming bruise dancing in front of his eyes, disrupting that typically seamless connection between his memory and his body.

.

"Dominic," Bob took him by the arm and made his next words very quiet between them, "I don't care how hacked off at the world you've reason to be, put it away now. I'm not going to have the same conversation with Peter about you as I am about him, am I?"

Dom looked the swordmaster in the eyes, setting his jaw with determination. "No sir."

Bob clapped him on the shoulder and addressed the group again about the routine as Sala approached. "Hell of a ding, that. Alright?"

"Yeah," Dom shrugged off the bruise and shook Sala's hand. He'd not spoken to the big man one-on-one before and was more than a little self-conscious of how diminutive he was in comparison. Sala only grinned at him and said, "Try not to kill me, little mate, eh?"

"No promises," Dom tossed back with a grin, almost foreign to his face as he took his starting place. 

They practiced without another hitch, and by the end Dom's arm throbbed with the repeated shocks of absorbing Sala’s hits. But he felt good, felt like he'd done his best despite false starts. He was tired and sweaty, and ready to break for lunch. Elijah was already had Orlando planning to meet he and Sean at a sandwich joint nearby, his eyes going hesitant he approached. 

"I'm up for whatever," Dom said, looking to Billy.

.

"Me too," Billy shrugged, giving him a reassuring smile. After a tumultuous morning, things finally seemed to have settled. "We'll meet you there," he said to the others before making his way over to Dom. "Think I left my wallet at your place," he lied.

Dom furrowed his brow at him before turning on his heel to follow him out the front entrance. 

Billy squinted at the sun, tossing his voice over his shoulder. "In case you're not up to it, you have an excuse. We can pretend I couldn't find it." As he said this, he stuck one of his hands in his back pocket, feeling it there.

.

Dom got in his car, Billy climbing in the passengers seat. He rotated his wrist around, tendons and muscles protesting under the now purple swelling. Stuart was long gone, his car not even in the carpark.

He wondered what Bob would say when he spoke to Peter, and if he'd be included in it. Stuart had baited him, and he’d in turn baited Stuart, and he knew he probably shouldn't have said anything at all. He already had odds against him for going after Billy too wildly as well, and that time he hadn't had a talking to, when any other day he very well would have. Bob was going easy on him because of Gran, and that made him even more ashamed about his behavior.

"Do you not want to eat with the guys?" Dom asked, starting the car, "I don't mind either way. Wouldn't mind the distraction, really," he said quietly, watching Elijah and Sean drive away with Orlando and hesitated driving after them. "How easy is it, do you think, to get fired from a film this big?"

.

Billy looked over, examining Dom's face. "Whatever you want." He took a deep breath. "Don't worry about what happened in there, eh? Any one of us would've done the same thing. He's a fucking prick—Bob knows that, Pete knows that."

Dom stared intently through the windshield at the still carpark before them. They both knew Billy wasn't being entirely truthful.

"But, ehm..." He adjusted his seat belt so he could turn bodily toward Dom. "It is important to remember that any one of us can be replaced at any time. With the exception of maybe Elijah." Billy could already feel the loss of Dom potentially leaving. He'd already envisioned so much of how the next several months would go, inserting Dom right into every vision. "You want to be here more than anything. I know that," he said gently. "At any given moment, just do your best to stop and ask yourself if it's worth possibly giving this up."

.

Dom sighed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Fran told me, yesterday, that they spent too long looking for me to replace me now. That even if I went home for the... the funeral, I had this." He shook his head, "I know she was just being sweet."

Billy's fingers reached over to skirt around the welt on his arm again, as if it kept drawing his attention. Dom let him.

"It's not worth giving up. I'm being selfish, I know I am, but," Dom looked over at him, finding his eyes, "I don't think this'll come back around for me, Billy. Look at me, I'm not Orlando, or fuck, even Stuart. I can't walk into an audition and bat my pretty eyes and expect anything like this to fall in front of me again. I mean, we're training with the guy who doubled for fucking Darth Vader," he grinned wistfully, "It's as close as I might ever get. "

He gave another deep exhale, pulling out of the parking space and out of the carpark. His mum may never forgive him, but he hoped Gran did, at least. He felt so odd today, jumping between anger and sadness and a strange reconciliation with the new order of his world.

"If I'm being a prick, I hope you guys will tell me," he said as he drove, thinking about how he'd struck out at Billy when his anger was directed elsewhere, which was exactly what Stuart had done to him. "I don't deserve any more chances than anyone else."

.

"Not a problem." Billy smiled, reaching over to give Dom's thigh a friendly squeeze. He was grateful, again, to have been paired with someone with such a good head on his shoulders. Dom may have been volatile, but he was never beyond admitting when he was wrong. "You're not being selfish—you're being smart. This is a once in a lifetime thing." 

He sighed, watching the landscape go by. He had faith that, in the unlikely event that the film bombed, he and Dom wouldn't have trouble getting work: one of the blessings of being character actors. He wondered, though, if it turned out exactly how they'd anticipated, how they'd hoped, just what level of success it would bring. Sean had already made several cracks about Orlando becoming some sort of pinup boy, playing romantic leads and getting chased by eleven year-old girls. He knew that would never happen to he or Dom, but he was curious about what would happen. He knew it was better to not wonder, but he couldn't help it. He doubted any of them could. 

"Besides, I'm not ready for you to leave just yet."

.

"Oh well, in that case..." Dom smiled genuinely. It felt good to have someone so firmly in his corner. In the couple of weeks he'd been here, he'd met dozens of interesting people, cast and crew alike, and liked a fair few of them. But by some twist of fate, Billy was the one he was not only expected to connect with, he was the one he gravitated toward naturally.

And it seemed apparent in reverse. He could not figure out why Billy had come to him last night, endured him in all his clingy pathetic insecurities, and given himself and his comforts so freely, but he appreciated it more than Billy could possibly know. He wished Gran could have met him.

"I'm not going anywhere."


	4. Sparks and Sparkles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October, Wellington ~ 1999

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OFC's, lots of het in this chapter.

It always took Billy a while to realize he was drunk, and tonight was no exception.

It was all that pretty, poncy elf's fault, he thought as he finished off another double shot of scotch, sneaking him sips of his wretched fruity concoctions by force between actual drinks. He'd brought them here, to this massive sports complex of a place, with multiple floors and flashing lights and godawful techno music and people that were much too young for him—not at all his scene.

But he was coming around to it. Elijah was a warm, friendly presence at his side, nursing a beer, watching silently, the way he did when he wasn't yet comfortable in a place (or drunk himself). They were already at that point in the night, where conversation had gone out the window in favor of glazed looks, intoxicated, meaningless banter, hysterical laughter, and pure animal sensation.

Dom was currently busy epitomizing that last bit, out in the middle of the dance floor with arms high above his head, beads of sweat on his brow, and two, possibly three, pairs of hands on him. One was Orli's. Also something it took Billy a while to realize.

The girl in front of him hooked her fingers in his belt loops and tugged hard, and Billy shifted on his stool in empathy.

"This music sucks," Elijah leaned over and yelled over the noise.

"Yeah," Billy answered absently, eyes steady.

.

The music in this place was crap, heavy trance electronica garbage, loud enough to rattle in the back teeth. But it had a strong beat, and after this intense first week of filming, all he really needed was a few drinks and a rhythm to let loose on.

They'd plunged into the crowd together, after some crass dare to see if two blokes dancing together would bring the ladies in "like flies to honey", Orli had said, his palms skating over the freshly shorn sides of his head. He could still feel Orlando behind him, clinging a bit, his large hand on Dom's shoulder.

The girl was into it though, her hands skating under his shirt and yanking him against her hips to grind properly. He grinned, letting his own hands slide up her skin, the backless top she wore asking for it.

"Told you," Orlando's laughing voice was felt more than heard, his lips and grinning teeth pushed right up against Dom's ear.

.

Billy motioned the bartender for another double shot, straight, thankful that the clump of people on the verge of flashing body parts for drinks only moments before had scattered, mostly to the dance floor.

Elijah leaned into him again as he brought the glass to his lips. "I need a smoke," he held an imaginary cigarette up to his mouth just to make sure he got the message.

"I'll come," Billy said immediately, sliding off his stool with probably not very much grace. He followed on Elijah's heels out to the center of the crowd, realizing—belatedly again—that he meant to tell their friends where they were going. He suddenly felt a bit cranky, wishing they could just bugger off.

Elijah went for Orli—smart choice, as Dom was glued to that girl—and Orli, of course, couldn't be arsed to care where they were going. Dom glanced at him as he followed Elijah out, and he gave him a tight smile, lifting his glass.

No one would care that they took their drinks outside, not even the bouncers at the front. It was late enough, and besides, what were places like this good for if not anonymity?

He thought suddenly of drama school, the first night Gavin had brought him to Edinburgh, to a gay club, how thoroughly strange and uncomfortable he'd felt, and then, just as quickly, right at home, Gavin's fingertips down the back of his waistband, his face in his neck, and his own head tipped back to the kaleidoscopic ceiling, his heart keeping a thunderous beat under the loud bass.

The shock of the quiet night air pushed that image stubbornly out of his head, and he inhaled sharply, glancing down at his drink, the stamp on his hand looking terribly out of place. He'd gotten to that age where places like this made him feel like a father in a playground.

Elijah handed him a cigarette butt-first. "Hey." Billy finally raised his eyes, accepting it. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he brushed him off. "Loud in there." 

.

The girl was taller than he was. Ordinarily not much of an issue, but she was also skinny, now that he had his hands on her, skinnier than he liked, her hipbones and shoulder blades sharp. He gave her a grin, raising his hands again into the air, closing his eyes. Eventually, he felt her move away.

She moved on to Orlando, and that was fine. Dom wiped at the sweat on his brow, pushing his way toward the bar for a beer, something to cool him down. Several minutes of waving notes had a pint in his hand, of which he drained half.

Billy had looked a bit irritated as he'd gone outside, and Dom wasn't sure why, he'd seemed fine before they'd arrived. He procured a barstool, eying up the pair of girls beside him, waving down the barman. When they finally got his attention, Dom had his wallet out. "I'll buy those, mate."

"Thanks," the girls allowed him to pay before promptly turning to go elsewhere.

"Oi, come on now, give a bloke a chance, eh? I haven't even given you a bad line yet," Dom threw them his cheekiest grin.

.

"'M too old for this," Billy said through the start of a laugh as he exhaled smoke.

Elijah's brow furrowed. "Are you fucking kidding me? You look younger than I do."

"Don't feel it though," Billy smiled wryly. "There's a difference, my nubile friend."

Elijah let out an airy giggle. He was already a bit buzzed, Billy could tell. "Nubile? I know I'm technically legal, Bill, but be careful. I think my mom'll have a heart attack if you seduce me."

Billy laughed, his mood improving considerably. He took a sip of scotch, thinking. Christ, alcohol made him so temperamental. Bloody Scottish cliche, he was.

"Hey, so—" Elijah hesitated. "What's the deal with Dom and Orlando?" His voice went quiet, tentative.

Billy lifted wide, incredulous eyes to him. "What d'you mean, Lij?"

He was instantly defensive. "Hey! It's possible! Don't look at me like that."

"It is possible," Billy conceded, a wide smile stretching across his face, "Of course it is. But, ehm... I don't think tonight's any indication of... that."

"Okay." Elijah laughed, looking slightly bashful.

Billy took a deep drag and let it out slowly, turning serious. "Why d'you ask?"

"No reason; I was just curious, you know?" He finished his beer, probably to fill the silence. "These things happen, I've seen it."

Billy transferred the fag to his other hand, balancing it with the barely full glass of scotch, and rested a hand on the back of Elijah's neck. "That's right, you grew up in Hollywood. I forgot." He wondered, though, if it were possible, Dom and Orlando, and if it were more than possible, how would Elijah really react? He wondered further at Elijah, at the way he followed Dom around and sought his approval; he'd seen plenty of that in drama school, sometimes even directed at him.

.

Dom turned back to his beer with a smile and a shake of his head as the girls left. Not the first time, wouldn't be the last.

At length a pair of arms came over his shoulders, recognizable by their sinewy archer's grace. "Aww, the rejector becomes the rejected," Orlando chuckled in his ear.

"Oi, I passed a woman off to you," Dom laughed, "Should thank me and my generosity."

"Eh," Orlando took a gulp from Dom's beer, "Too bony."

"Mmm. Some of us can't afford to be choosy, apparently," Dom pulled his beer back, "I'd buy you one, but my last ten quid just walked off."

"Sweet talker," Orlando sat on the empty stool beside him. He looked gorgeous, actually, the sheen on his olive skin playing with the strobes, the bleary drunk haze in his chocolate eyes. And even more ridiculous as the haircut was, Orlando was a beautiful man, and Dom had noticed more than once. So was Elijah, and Viggo. The American had come in so suddenly, bloody fucking Master Chief from G.I. Jane for fuck's sake, dropped into the middle of a film this huge, and yet he'd literally stepped right into a swordfight like he owned it. And hadn't let go of the fuck-off Claymore sword since. Dom liked him immensely, he was a breath of fresh air compared to Stuart.

Billy was beautiful too. Maybe not in the conventional sense, but since the day Gran died, Dom had a new respect for him, a desire to be around him, to learn much more from him.

Dom squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. He was drunk. He was in that state of mind where he'd soon begin professing love for everyone and becoming very cuddly. And Orlando was intolerably dazzling. "Fuck it, you great beautiful twat." He pushed the remainder of the beer toward Orlando, who caught his tongue between his teeth like a flirt.

.

By the time he and Elijah made their way back to the techno floor, Dom and Orlando were sitting at the bar looking terribly buzzed and thoroughly dejected. Billy discarded his empty glass on the far end of the bar, approached Orli from behind and wrapped both arms around him, tight. He was in a much better mood. "Are we cramping your style, you great big gorgeous prick bastard?!"

Orlando awkwardly maneuvered Billy between he and Dom, in what little space there was between the two stools, and smothered him with an even tighter, long-limbed embrace. "I love Billy. He's magical."

Billy laid his hands over Orlando's forearms and looked up at Dom's glazed eyes, startled by how intensely close they were. "Orli, I think I should tell you, I'm very susceptible to flattery. Keep talking like that and I'll go back on my promise to God."

.

"Ooh," Dom winced. "Promises to God shouldn't be broken, Bill. I once promised God that I would eat all my vegetables for a week if I made the boy's football team."

Billy's eyebrows rose with interest and Orlando nuzzled over his shoulder, "And?"

Dom pouted, wrinkling his nose. "Mum served broccoli every day that week."

Elijah guffawed, his laugh ringing out, but barely audible under the music.

"But you made the team?" Orlando asked.

"Yeah," Dom said, "But I sprained my foot a week after, had to quit."

Billy looked comfortable wrapped in Orlando's arms, his eyes bright and sparkling in the lights, body loose with whiskey. Dom wanted a bit of that closeness, and reeled Elijah in by the neck. "Lijah's magical too, eh?" he brought Elijah between the stools as well, putting he and Billy chest to chest. He thoroughly ignored Elijah's swearing protest, hooking his chin over his shoulder to watch Billy react. "Isn't he, Bills? Do these baby blues dazzle you?"

.

"'Course they do. I'm only human," Billy answered, leaning ever so slightly closer to Elijah. "Lij, what was it you were saying outside about your mother and heart attacks?"

Elijah's eyes went even wider, and Dominic threw his head back and laughed, even though he couldn't have had a clue what Billy was talking about. Billy's eyes shifted to Dom's just as he brought his head back to its resting place on Elijah's shoulder.

Orlando pulled him closer, away from the two of them. "Are you ever going to fill your promise to me tonight?"

Billy and Dom exchanged a look, Dom playing amused to Billy's petrified. "What promise?"

"You promised you'd dance with me!" Orlando hopped down from his perch, tugging on Billy's belt buckle, not all too differently from how that girl had tugged on Dominic's loops before. "Are you going to fulfill that promise or are you going to sit here like a sad bastard all night?"

"I'm a terrible dancer," Billy declared, as if to remind himself, lest his drink-addled brain send a message down to his hips, convincing them that he was actually good at it.

"And this is terrible music. You're perfect for it!" Elijah countered.

Billy looked to Dom for an answer.

.

"When was this promise made?" Dom stuck his bottom lip out, "And why didn't I get added to your dance card, Bills? I'm wounded."

"Because I had him for weeks before you did," Orlando narrowed his eyes over Billy's shoulder, "And whatever happens, that special time will always be between us."

Dom slid off his own stool. "C'mon, Peach. The music's shite, but it has a beat, at least."

He dragged a sputtering Elijah to the edge of the gyrating crowd, throwing a dark look over his shoulder, daring Billy to watch. As he caught the beat, he grabbed Lij by his narrow little hips and got them moving.

"This is totally gay," Elijah shouted over the bass, his hands hovering pathetically. Dom grabbed for them and lifted them over Elijah's head, making his t-shirt slide up over that peachy skin.

"Totally," Dom grinned lecherously, mimicking the round vowels. He leaned in, speaking in Elijah's ear, "C'mon Lij. Billy's feeling like an old fart in this place, I can tell, but you know he won't back down a dare. So let's get him out here with us, hmm?"

.

Billy wondered at Dom, not for the first time that night—not for the first time in the past few weeks, frankly. His brain was much too fuzzy to wonder with any coherence. But it wondered.

Orlando moved a hand up to Billy's head, fingering the hair at his crown absently. "Dom's a good dancer, eh?" Billy's eyes followed the grind of Dom's hips, but he didn't answer. "I mean, like, he's not but he is. D'you know what I mean?"

Billy nodded, distracted. He did. In fact, Dom was so good at what he did on the dance floor that he seemed to be making Elijah slightly uncomfortable. Billy recognized the look of a man fighting with himself skittering all over Elijah's face. He'd had that look once himself, many years before.

Dom's eyes flashed at him, lightning-quick, making sure he was watching. Billy grabbed blindly behind himself for Orlando's shirt. "Come on, you." He directed a beguiling smirk over his shoulder. "I never go back on my promises."

.

Dom grinned as he saw Billy pull Orlando to a place nearby on the floor. He slid one hand round Elijah's waist to pull them close.

"Dom, come on, man," Elijah laughed nervously.

"Just go with it, Lij," Dom told him, setting a grind to the beat with his hips, watching Billy start dancing with Orlando with a silly smile.

"See," Dom said, "It's not about the music in a place like this. It's crap, sure, but it doesn't matter. It's about the rhythm," he put one hand on the front of Elijah's shirt, thumping it with the beat, "It's that everyone's feeling it in here," he pulsed his hips along with it, grinning, "and there."

"Yeah, yeah, dancing is sex. Duh," Elijah said, trying to keep some space between them, but Dom maneuvered him around and pulled Elijah's back to his front, looking over his shoulder at Billy again. He was watching.

"No it isn't," Dom said, "Dancing is a prelude, Lij, a display. Like a bird luring in a mate." He swiveled his own hips, and moved Elijah's counterpoint with his hands.

"I'm not the fucking girl."

"No, you want to fuck the girls, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've got them looking," Dom taunted, "So show them all you're not as fucking precious as you look."

.

It was a bit awkward with Orlando at first, not only for the fact that they were both pissed, but for the fact that Orli, like so many others, had this idea of Billy being small and compact. Which he was, but it also made Orli think he was the one in charge, ensnaring him with his gangly limbs. But that just wasn't on, not for Billy, so he weaseled his way out of his friend's grip and took the lead, using his strength to control Orlando's slow swaying. It didn't take much.

Ordinarily, Billy probably would've exerted a bit more discretion, in the name of not having known these guys long, and them not being in a gay bar. But the drink had him feeling careless and nostalgic; he tried to recall the way this worked with Gavin once upon a time.

"Christ, look at that," Orlando laughed, nodding in the direction of Elijah and Dom, who were looking mighty indecent themselves, plastered back to front, Dom's hands big and demanding on his hips.

Billy took a brief glance, something snapping inside him, and snorted dismissively. "Amateurs," he declared, as if posing a challenge to Orlando.

.

Elijah turned back to him, a bit of a warning in those eyes. "I don't really get where you're coming from."

Dom smiled, letting his eyes hold over Elijah's mouth. He brought Elijah's hands to his own hips, pretending they were guiding him. To the side, he could see Billy taking initiative with Orlando, the pair of them fighting over who was leading, typical of straight blokes dancing together.

Dom, on the other hand, deferred to Elijah now, or at least made it look like he did until Elijah caught on.

"Look around, Lij," he leaned in, their foreheads brushing intimately, "Look how many girls are watching you."

Elijah did, taking in the several, including the pair that had blown Dom off at the bar, the drinks he'd bought still in their hands, dancing together and watching with more interest than they'd given him before. Dom grinned, flicking his eyes to see if Billy was looking as well.

"Look at them watching, thinking dirty things," he told Elijah, sliding his hands over Elijah's slender little chest, "If a bloke thinks you're sexy, girls start to wonder exactly how interesting you can be. In bed. You follow me?"

A slow grin broke over Elijah's face, his fingers tightening in Dom's belt loops.

.

Maybe Billy wasn't a dancer, but he'd always been pretty confident that he could pull off anything with a little persistence. And he had the advantage of being a musician, knowing rhythm in a deep, guttural way that most people didn't, not to mention the advantage of, well, having had a bit more practice doing this with a man than he presumed the others did.

He tucked three fingers knuckle-deep into the waistband of Orlando's denims and tugged until their hips collided, his other hand working its way down to his thigh, just under the curve of his arse.

Orlando let out a helpless giggle into his neck. "Have you done this before?!"

Billy just smiled, pretending not to hear. As they turned, he quickly got distracted by Dom's crooked mouth, slurring things into Elijah's ear that he couldn't make out but he could guess by the way Lij's expression went from tentative to thrilled, his eyes skittering around to proudly take in the attention of men and women alike. Billy found Dom's eyes over his shoulder and shook his head. Dom winked, tightening his grip on Lij and grinding away.

Billy closed his eyes, his heartbeat coming faster as he licked the burn of scotch from his lips. He needed to put a stop to this before the atmosphere and the alcohol really started getting to him, before he couldn't hide it from Orlando or anyone else.

.

Now that Elijah was looking worlds more confident with himself, Dom slid an arm round him and beckoned the pair of girls from earlier over with a finger, pressing his lips to Elijah's ear, "Keep it up like this Lij, and you're going to get laid."

As soon as Elijah turned in surprise, the girls were right there. Dom danced Elijah over to them, yelling over the music. "My mate's just the hottest thing, but he likes girls a lot more than he likes me, so."

One of the girls turned immediately to Elijah to dance, and and the other turned to Dom. "What about you, hon? You don't like girls anymore?"

Dom danced up to her just for a moment to lean in, "Sweetheart, if you gave me the time of day the first time, I might have been good to you. Enjoy that drink."

He danced away, ignoring the surprise on her face. He had his pride after all, and Elijah could get the lay of a lifetime. He didn't feel bad for any of it. He simply raised his hands in the air and danced by himself between he and his friends.

.

"Look," Orlando insisted, turning Billy again to face their friends.

Billy laughed at the image of Lij in the middle of a throng of girls and at the mercy of one particularly eager one. "I think he looks even more terrified than when Dom was groping him," he shouted into Orlando's ear, just as his eyes found Dom dancing nearby, looking utterly proud of himself. Billy touched Orli on the arm to indicate his departure, and floated over to Dom.

He wrapped both hands around his neck and reeled him in, talking into his ear, though Dom didn't quite stop dancing. "You're diabolical. Well done, mate."

.

Dom's grin spread even wider, "See what I did there?" One arm rose back to brush Billy's hair. "He'll owe me a boon by the end of this thing."

He turned around and tugged Billy a bit closer by his hips, taking in the not quite settled set of his face, the hesitancy he didn't have dancing with Orlando.

"How 'bout you, old man, mmm?" Dom said loudly, though the words were only heard between them. He tilted his head flirtily, lifting his chin in challenge. "Still feeling like a terrible dancer?"

.

"No, I know I'm fantastic. I just didn't want to show off." Billy's eyes darted away from Dom's (those wicked, beguiling things), into the crowd, and back again. He suddenly wished for another drink. He felt himself faltering at the feel of Dom wriggling against him, albeit tentatively.

Billy was hesitant to dance himself, to move at all, really. He glanced around, noting some of the other people who still had their eyes on Dom. He leaned in, bringing his mouth next to Dom's ear. "Has anyone ever told you you have a universal appeal?"

.

"Yeah, that I'm universally annoying. Amusing. Aggravating," he grinned, "Give me a two pound A-word, I can't think of one."

That last beer was doing its work. He felt overwarm and loose and affectionate. "Affectionate," he mumbled with a smile into Billy's neck, finding his word himself.

He tucked his fingers into Billy's front pockets and tugged, "Dance with me, Bills. 'M pissed and I just gave Lij every girl in the place."

.

Billy took a deep breath to center himself and sighed, "Okay." He brought his arms to rest loosely over Dom's shoulders and moved. Dom laughed quietly, making his skin vibrate.

Feeling him all warm and close and sweet like this reminded Billy of just weeks before, after Dom's gran had died, holding him on the sofa and letting him cry. This was different and yet the same. Billy again noted the easy way their bodies came together, too easy—none of that physical awkwardness he and Orli had. They just fit, perfectly. His body woke to Dom's, suddenly needing his heat, all of him all over. Christ, he was minging.

He left one of his hands dangling and delved the other into the hair at the back of Dom's head, feeling the slight dampness of sweat at the roots. "I don't think you gave him every girl. Take a look around. You can have most anyone here."

.

Dom wrapped his arms around Billy's waist. "Remember this week, Bill? Remember piling on the road, and you saying 'mushrooms!'" he pulled his head up to smile, "You're my favorite."

He frowned. He wasn't articulating properly. This first week had been an amazing rush of the real thing, early mornings and multiple cameras and people everywhere, a more or less well oiled machine that moved and cycled around them. It was a taste of real filmmaking, and they'd all risen to the occasion. It was why they'd gone out tonight in the first place, to celebrate.

And in the midst of it all, he'd connected with Billy even more, doing scenes over and over again they way Pete liked, and every time, Billy met him at every single turn.

"I'm glad we're doing this thing, Bills," he brought their foreheads together so Billy could hear. "You and me."

.

Billy inhaled shakily, eyes focused down at the juncture of their hips. His hands started wandering, unbeknownst to him, fingers massaging a slow, almost erotic rhythm into Dom's scalp, the other coming between them to light on the skin under the collar of his shirt.

He didn't so much mind not being the one in charge, with Dom.

"Aye, me too," he answered finally, bringing his eyes back up to Dom's. They sparkled even in the relative dark of the dance floor, infinitely more exotic lined with black underneath. He tightened his grip in Dom's hair as he pressed a kiss to his mouth. "You're my favorite, too," he admitted. "'M so glad you're here."

.

Dom smiled crookedly at the short, quick press of Billy's lips, and how he'd finally fallen into the beat, as if his body had done it without his knowing.

"If you're going to snog me, you should at least buy me a drink, eh?" he rumbled a laugh, wiping his forehead on his sleeve again. "It's boiling in here."

Billy seemed to come back from somewhere in his head, the hand that had been combing through his hair retreating down to his shoulder. Dom tilted his head, looking at his glazed eyes. "You are pickled. Almost perfectly," He laughed again at his alliteration. "Perfectly pickled Pickle. Let's get another. Except I'm out of money. Where'd Orli go?"

.

Dazed, Billy turned, in search of their friend. Of course, it'd only taken a minute or two for him to be swamped by a group of girls. The perks of being young and beautiful. "He looks a bit caught up," he smiled, then turned back to Dom, fingering his belt loops. "Be back."

With a heavy exhale, he made his way back to the bar, now crowded again and practically inaccessible. He hung back and politely waited his turn behind a girl who was either too short or too timid to command the bartender's attention—probably some combination of both.

He licked his lips, and they were still warm from where he'd kissed Dom. It wasn't a big deal; they'd been doing it since practically Dom's first night here. Then again...

He really needed to do something to stop his brain from going down such paths.

The bartender passed the girl in front of him, and she made a pathetic go of it before sighing elaborately and throwing her hands in the air. Without thinking, Billy stepped forward, putting his powerful vocals to use. "Oi!"

The bartender stopped and nodded at him. Billy leaned into the girl. "What'll you have?" The girl glanced back and forth between them, tentative, as if ready to ask Billy, Are you sure? Billy laughed. "Go on."

She ordered two of something girly, and Billy ordered another scotch for himself and a pint of something light for Dom, pulling out a few notes to cover it all. "You don't have to," she insisted, her Kiwi lilt sweet and beguiling, something Billy still hadn't gotten accustomed to, and still thoroughly loved.

"'S alright, you deserve it for having waited so long," Billy smiled.

She gave him a confused look, one Billy knew well; she couldn't quite make out his accent over the music. "Thanks," she nodded, obviously hoping it was an appropriate response for what he'd just said.

He leaned in close. "D'you happen to know sign language?"

She laughed at that.

.

Dom looked after Billy as he stayed on the beat on his own. Something about that kiss had been a bit weird, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He turned, finding Orlando grooving right along with several women, as typical. He continued around and eventually spotted Elijah, now farther in the middle of the floor and well on his way to his evening, snogging the girl he was with deeply.

He laughed lowly to himself, shaking his head. "You're welcome, Peach."

He spun back, finding Billy talking to a cute, petite girl as the waiter passed several drinks over to him, two of which he handed over to the girl. "There you go, Bills," Dom murmured under his breath, grinning, "Not so old after all."

Billy looked up, gesturing him over with another cold pint. "Such a gentleman."

.

As soon as he gestured Dom over, another girl materialized to take her drink and thank him. Names were exchanged, small talk was had. The girls—Zoe and Betty, if he'd heard right—seemed more than a little skeptical that they were actually here working on a big Hollywood blockbuster, especially the way that Dom had described it in drunken hyperbole. But that didn't seem to matter, either. After they'd all downed their drinks in record time, they were all out on the dance floor, paired off.

Billy gave a great inward sigh as Zoe's small hands came to rest on his chest. This, this felt better. Right. Not like his resolve was crumbling and his head was going to explode. Which was not to say that Zoe wasn't disarming, no; she was all fleshy curves and knew how to showcase them to her advantage when she danced, brushing up against Billy in all the right places without making him feel like she was laying herself out for him. She was a bit of a tease, but a safe one, at least. He smiled down at her, his hands splayed wide and firm at her hips, loving the feel of them.

Not too far to his left, Dom was grinding with Betty, not quite as indecently as he'd been with Lij minutes before, but still, his hands were skating just under the hem of her dress, and she had one of his thighs between hers. Billy wondered how she felt with those eyes so close and those knowing hands so hot on her skin.

He turned back to Zoe, leaning in to speak right into her ear. "I can't help but feel taken advantage of. 'M not sure you've understood a word I've said, and yet, here you are dancing with me. Don't use me for my body, Zoe. I know it's tempting, but it's not right."

She laughed, turning so her own mouth was right at his earlobe, brushing it on consonants in that way that always managed to shoot right down the center of his body to his cock. "I don't think that's how this works." Her hands skated down to the soft part of his stomach, right above his belt. She pressed a kiss under his ear. "You have got a fantastic body, though."

Billy pulled her closer so she was all flush with him. "So do you."

.

Betty was the sort of girl who'd come out here with a purpose. She knew how she looked, and she could have her choice of people to go home with, and she even brought along a wingman in Zoe, who was certainly not bad looking herself, but she didn't have quite the same sort of fire. Dom briefly wondered if those were really their names, although he had the impression it didn't much matter, he wouldn't remember them in the morning anyway.

No matter how much of a look she'd given him when he'd mentioned the film, she danced with particular intent, her hip and thigh pressing against his interested prick, one hand draped over his shoulder and the other sliding into his back pocket, pleased at the little packet she found there. "You come prepared, don't you?" she spoke in his ear, using her teeth to tug on its edge.

Dom glanced around. Elijah and Orlando were nowhere to be seen, at least no longer in the immediate vicinity. They'd all come out in the same cab, perfectly intent on getting trashed and getting cabs home anyway, and if Elijah had been taught anything in the last four months, Dom hoped he had his hands up his girl's dress already. Orlando could handle himself.

Billy was nearby with Zoe, and it gave Dom sudden pause to watch him move with her. His hands roving, fingers spreading to the rise of her arse and then her thigh as she set little bites down his neck. He tilted his own head to press a sweet kiss to the corner of her jaw, and Dom had a sharp, weird flash of those soft lips warm against his own again.

"I hope your mate's a good guy," Betty told him, her hand gripping his belt buckle as she followed Dom's gaze. "She doesn't do this very often."

"He's a better man than I am," Dom grinned, shaking his head of previous thoughts. The deal seemed to be closed on both fronts. There was only one problem. Dom, like the git he actually was, had no money left for a cab.

.

Zoe turned her eyes down, flushing as Billy started kissing her. "I don't do this a lot," she admitted.

He met her eyes. "Neither do I," he said seriously. It was true enough, at least nowadays. Billy hated to admit it to himself, but he wasn't quite as into this whole thing as he might've been in his early twenties, or even just a few years before, really. Still, it was late, and he was pissed, and Zoe was pretty and sweet, and the whole night of dancing and flirting and dodging temptation had been leading up to this.

Billy made his hands a gentler presence at her waist. "We don't have to," he offered, wanting to make that clear.

"I want to," she replied immediately, before finally kissing him on the mouth. And Christ, she was deceptively good at that, all attentive, agile tongue and persuasive hands. This would be a fantastic night. He finished the kiss off with a tug to her bottom lip, and she moaned a little.

"You're not what you appear to be, you know that?" Billy smiled down at her, thumbs drifting toward her navel. "Want to go?" She bit her lip—the one he'd just left his own teeth marks in—and nodded.

Billy turned to look for Dom, finding him looking happily helpless with Betty wrapped all around him. They met eyes, and Billy tried communicating with him telepathically, remembering Dom was out of cash. Split a cab?

.

Dom grinned. Billy could always be counted on, that was for sure. They came together on the way to the exit, Betty saying something in Zoe's ear before they broke through the doors and into the sudden plunge of relative quiet on the streets. He could still feel the bass pounding in his blood as he leaned up to the curb to look for a cab, Betty looking him over under the street lights.

He smiled, pulling a pair of candies out of his pocket, handing her one. He popped the other in his mouth, watching her eyes crawl over his face and torso. "Having second thoughts, love?"

"No," She smiled back, pretty and maybe guiltily, unwrapping her own candy and passing it between her plush lips. She stepped closer and ran her thumb under own of his eyes, showing him the running eyeliner residue that was left on her skin, catching his hands and noting the random nail varnish. She cocked a brow. "You're different."

"Hopefully in a good way," he looped a hand around her waist.

"I saw you dancing with more blokes than girls," she cocked a brow, "Saw you dancing with your mate, there, actually."

Dom glanced over at Billy, not far away. It was strangely enticing to see him kiss a woman the way he was kissing Zoe, to watched his neat, practiced hands sliding along her skin and up into her hair, when not so long ago that cherubic little mouth and those fingers were on him in much the same way. Dom licked his lips and shrugged off the weirdness again, looking back at Betty, "I'm a friendly sort of bloke, what can I say?"

He spotted a cab coming up the road and stepped swiftly out to hail it.

.

Under the streetlights, Zoe was more human, and that was a strange comfort to Billy. She insisted on kissing as they waited, being kissed, and he obliged, hands running up her back and into her hair, reveling in how tiny she was under them.

They piled into the cab in a daze, Dom first—and most enthusiastically, then Betty, then Zoe, then Billy. Dom gave the driver the first address—his—and leaned back, his leg set to jiggling restlessly. The sound of candy clicking against teeth filled the silence. Though Billy couldn't see him from where they were sitting, he could picture Dom pushing it around his mouth with his tongue, the intermittent peek of butterscotch between his lips.

Zoe tucked an arm between his arm and the seat back, wrapping possessively around his bicep. He smiled at her, his eyes catching on Betty's hand creeping along Dom's thigh, her nails a deep, insistent purple against the denim. Billy quickly darted his eyes out the window and watched the scenery go by. A few moments later, Dom huffed a surprised breath that sounded like an erotic smile. Billy closed his eyes, concentrating on Zoe's cool fingers on his forearm.

.

Dom's breath left his throat at the light teasing nudge of Betty's slim knuckles against his balls, surprised and pleased with her forwardness. He spread his knees further in invitation, stroking one finger of the arm draped around her shoulders down the side of her neck. He tilted his head a bit forward, spotting Billy sitting like a gentleman watching the traffic go by, his girl with her legs crossed, angling her body towards him.

He chuckled lowly, the sound over the cabby's radio making Billy turn his head back toward him. What a picture they must make, Billy with his straight laced and buttoned up look, and Dom with his running eyeliner and sparkly silkscreened t-shirt. Yet over conversations they'd had, Dom didn't doubt Billy didn't extend his brand of fun to the bedroom. His girl, Zoe (he was already struggling to remember her name) may not do this often, but Dom suspected Billy would make it worth her while.

Dom rather hoped he had a little something to do with that, the way Billy had been a bit tetchy about the evening. He didn't understand the little age crisis Billy seemed to be having, but then, how could he? He was so far from thirty he couldn't be bothered to think about it, and he wished Billy didn't either. He looked twenty-something, and nine days out of ten, he acted fifteen, so there was no reason whatsoever that Billy shouldn't get laid like a strapping eighteen year old lad somewhere in the middle. Dom's drunken logic was perfectly sound.

But when the cab pulled up at Dom's flat, he had the somewhat embarrassing dilemma of not having the money to pay his end of the bargain. He flashed his eyes at Billy as he opened the door, biting his lip.

.

Billy nodded at Dom, as if to say, I know, you incredible git, I've got it, and Dom smiled gratefully, wiggling his eyebrows at the both of them before making his way out the car door, slamming it behind him. Billy heard Betty's high giggle rise above the sound of the cab pulling away, and he resisted the urge to look out the back windshield behind them.

He felt Zoe relax against him, which he found odd, considering this was the part that usually did him in. He laid a hand on her outer thigh, skating his thumb under the hem of her shorts to calm himself. He noted for the first time that she was wearing knee-high boots with quite the heel, and smiled wide. She'd be even shorter once they'd gotten their clothes off.

It wasn't long before they reached Billy's flat. He paid the fee, momentarily lamenting the fact that he was now out about five times the amount he'd expected going into tonight, then stumbled a bit on his way out of the cab, hanging back to usher Zoe to the front door with an arm around her waist.

In the silence of his foyer, he felt the strange compulsion to ask Zoe more about herself, where she was from, what she did, what she wanted to be, how old she was (something he probably should cover at least before this night ended). Instead, he sheepishly shuffled his way over to the kitchen, hearing her heels click leisurely behind. "D'you want anything? Water, or anything?"

"No, thanks."

Billy turned to find her standing only a few feet away, his own back against the wall at the start of the hallway. He smiled, taking in the periwinkle of her eyes, made prettier in normal indoor lighting. She clicked over to him and urged him gently against the wall as she pressed her lips to his again. "Bedroom, then?" he breathed. She gave a playful nod.

.

Betty scanned around the flat, taking in the sparseness of furniture and the abundance of games and films scattered about on the living room floor. Dom ran his fingertips down her back, along the zipper of her dress. When she turned to him, he smiled.

"Do you want a drink?" he rumbled.

"Did your mate buy the booze here as well?" she asked, arching a teasing brow.

Dom huffed a laugh, "Maybe some of it." She grinned further and he stroked a hand down her bare arm, "Hey, at least I'm honest. I'll owe him for the cab. He won't let me forget, I assure you."

"So, you say your mate is a better man than you," she came even closer, moving her hips in that way only women could against his own, biting her lip through a smile, "And I'll believe that, since he bailed you out on the fare."

"Mmm," Dom focused on her soft pouty mouth.

"'Cause if he's not good to my girl," she intoned, "I'm going to hear about it."

"He will be," Dom breathed, leaning forward to kiss the corner of her mouth.

"Then show me how much better he is than you."

.

In the darkness of the bedroom, Billy took his time with Zoe, making sure not to overstep any boundaries too fast, touch her the wrong way, say the wrong thing, to the point where she almost seemed to be getting impatient with him. He let her push his shirt off first, her breath coming heavier as he teethed along the soft skin between her shoulder and neck.

Her fingernails scratched down his chest, over his stomach. She was unexpectedly sensual, and after Billy slid her shirt over her head, revealing endless lines and curves, even more so. The soft heave of her breasts against him brought a little growl from the back of his throat. "What can I do for you?," he whispered. "I'll do anything."

Zoe moaned in anticipation. "God, I love your accent."

Billy smiled into her neck before giving her a sensual little lick there. That kind of remark was always expected, but the way people always got so guttural when saying it never ceased to thrill him. It didn't hurt that he loved Zoe's too. Axe-int, he thought, the burn of scotch low in his stomach making him momentarily silly.

"Just touch me," Zoe cut into his thoughts. "Keep touching me. Please."

With that, he kissed her on the mouth, easing her back to his bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she tumbled gently backward, giggling a bit. He crawled over her, dipping his head to work his mouth down the cream of her neck, spurred by her shaky inhalations and the grip of her hands tight on his arse, pulling his groin down to meet hers, albeit through layers of material. She moaned, pushing him into her again. "Betty and I saw you dancing with your mate. At the club." One hand skated up, scratching at his bare back. "Was so fucking hot."

Billy's fingertips played at one of her bra straps, teasing. "Yeah?" he breathed, closing his eyes as he mouthed at her collarbone, seeing a flash of Dom's eyes when he did. The combination of sensations was fucking strange.

"There anything to that?" Zoe asked, and Billy could tell her mouth was made looser than usual with alcohol.

He found himself saying, "Maybe," as he eased that bra strap down, peeling back purple lace to reveal a soft pink nipple. Whether it was a genuine answer or something to tease her, turn her on more, Billy couldn't decide, didn't want to decide, not now, possibly not ever. He dragged his mouth over her full, gorgeous breast and she arched her back underneath him.

.

Betty's mouth still tasted of the candy, warm and sugary, her lips soft and practiced. He tugged her along the hall to his bedroom, bumping along the walls and doorframe with giggles until she tugged him inside, hitting the lightswitch herself. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, a girl who liked to see who she was fucking was always more fun.

Plus she was very pretty, her skin honey toned and sparkling with some glittery sort of lotion, the strapless dress clinging to her figure. He brought his hands up to her hair, searching for the pins that held it there and pulled them gently out, watching it tumbling down in dark waves in the mirror propped in the corner. He brought his hands back to cup her face and work her mouth open, twisting his tongue with hers and allowing her to do the same as her breathing became heavier. He slid his hands down to that magic zipper, kissing up to her ear so he could watch his hands slide it down in the reflection.

"So is your mate as good a kisser as you?" her low voice murmured against his neck.

"What?" he laughed.

She pulled back and grinned wickedly. "Is he?"

He grinned himself. "Didn't think it was that sort of kiss," he had another brief ghost of the memory, which was becoming more and more unsettling. "Wasn't bad."

"Do you kiss all your friends?"

"I love kissing," Dom darted in for more, glancing down to watch her body being revealed as he peeled the dress off. He couldn't help the way his mouth dropped that she wasn't wearing anything under it at all.

.

"I went to drama school, you know, so," Billy joked cryptically as he deftly palmed her other breast.

Zoe tipped her head back into the mattress, her voice going high. "You've been with guys before?"

Billy gave her a heated glance—"Maybe"—and laved her nipple. And somehow admitting that, even as a half-joke, felt good, somehow freeing, even if he didn't really know her and he'd probably never see her again after tonight.

She gasped, bringing her hand up through his hair, tugging on the ends, and he made like a right fucking tease, moving quickly down the center of her stomach, dragging his tongue there. He glanced up again, seeing her palm her own breasts restlessly in his wake, and smiled. "Let's see about these boots, hm?"

She laughed at that, watching as he slid down to the end of the mattress and made work of the big clunky leather things. The lengthy sound of the zip sliding down cut into Billy's concentration, made him wonder what Dom was doing, if he was fucking Betty yet, if he'd bothered with a bed or was having her on the living room floor. Did he even undress her all the way, or did he just hike the bottom of her dress up? It was alarming how long he wondered at this, until Zoe was more than half-naked with her bra still pushed down underneath her chest.

Billy ran his fingers up the length of her calves, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the silky skin there, until he reached the backs of her knees, where he tugged her decidedly toward the end of the bed, toward him, toward his mouth. She could barely get out an "Oh my God" before he rose to his knees, leaned forward, and licked a path up her inner thigh to the edge of her panties.

.

The tattoo curved from beneath her left breast and down, just under and to the side of her navel and then down, its tail curling just to the inside of her thigh, a twisting body of scales and feathers, gracefully accenting every curve of skin.

"Fuck, that's amazing," Dom breathed, going to his knees to look closer. "Quetzalcoatl?"

"Yeah," Betty smiled, pleased, but offered little else. He flashed his eyes up at her, one hand on her hip and the other tracing the lines of the artwork, her skin and the muscles beneath reacting to the touch. He nodded; he could hear some story about how she got it and why, but they weren't here for any of that.

Her fingers tugged at the shoulder of his shirt, and he raised his arms to let her pull it off over his head, darting his tongue along the lines of ink beneath her navel and to the side of her neatly trimmed pubes. He let one thumb reach over from her hips to just brush down the center of them, pulsing it just lightly at the top of her slit, earning a moan and a swallow.

He stood and backed toward the bed, bringing her into his lap as he sat of the edge of it so he could give her breasts some attention. As he felt the weight and softness of them in his hands, leaning in to suck a nipple into his mouth, his mind went back to her challenge, and how she was perfectly willing to tell him she and her friend would exchange stories after this. It was the only thing making him pause.

Billy was ever a gentleman around women, and yet he was perfectly filthy when he wanted to be. Already Dom had heard things he knew Billy liked and enjoyed when it came to getting laid, and in turn Dom had mentioned a few. But he could not imagine the way Billy might be in bed. He couldn't imagine Billy using those neat, skilled hands to touch just the right places, and with the right pressure, like playing a fine guitar. Couldn't imagine the way his mouth might kiss and nibble on naked skin, or the sound of dirty things coming in his sweet, low lilt.

He exhaled, tightening his arms and burying his mouth in her cleavage, trying to smother out the places his mind was going.

.

This was something Billy loved doing, whether it was a guy or a girl, it didn't matter; there was something so intimate about putting your mouth to the core of someone and just letting them have it. He was even better at it like this, pissed enough to be hungry but not sloppy. He teased Zoe terribly at first, giving her long, languid licks over the material of her underwear—matching purple lace, how cute—until she clutched his ears hard and whimpered, "Please, Billy, please." He gave her a few more punishing licks for good measure, tasting just a hint of that sweet wetness coming up on his tongue through the material.

Above him, she whimpered inarticulately, her thighs squirming a bit against the duvet. She didn't have time to plead before he quickly reached up, tugged the lace down over her thighs, her knees, her toes, pushed her thighs apart, and wriggled his tongue inside her, catching her completely off guard. She came off the mattress a little, her jaw dropping around a gasp-moan, and Billy groaned in reply, easing her legs over his shoulders and sliding his hands under her arse as he outright feasted on her.

She was all thick and heady in his mouth and nostrils, clouding his brain with an animal lust. And still, though he couldn't have been further from it, face to face with the very definition of womanhood though he was, Billy's stubborn brain kept going back to Dom, his eyes all intent and fiery, his hands restless over Billy's skin, his hips, his cock unmistakeable through his denims, against Billy's hip. Billy exhaled heavily, nearly growling as he licked up to her clit, pulsing and teasing there, reaching one hand down to unzip his trousers and palm himself over his boxers. He needed to fuck her, now.

.

Dom worked his mouth around Bettys breasts, teeth setting and tongue gentling as she dug her nails into his shoulder. She pushed her other hand up through the hair at the back of his head, the sense memory of it playing over like a film reel, of Billy darting in...

He slid a hand over her hip and down, the folds of her sex wet and spread as she straddled him. He pressed and massaged with the heel of his hand to her clit, and sank one long finger into her, widening his senses to her long moan and the way she squirmed over him, trying to push the thought of Billy from his mind. 

.

Thankfully, one of Zoe's hands drifted down to pinch Billy's shoulder. "Stop, stop," she panted.

He licked his lips and stood, pulling his denims off at the foot of the bed. Zoe looked him over, her eyes stopping at his crotch. One of her hands drifted to her own, fingering lightly through the slickness he left there, the other still playing at one of her breasts. She extended one of her legs, hooking her ankle around the back of one of his knees to nudge playfully. He gripped her calf, caressing. "Can you do me a favor?" She inhaled deeply, nodding. "Reach over into that drawer there," he nodded to one of the bedside tables, bringing her foot up to his mouth to nip at the heel.

Zoe giggled and turned elegantly onto her side to fish for a condom, displaying her curvy figure to its best advantage.

"Christ, look at you," Billy breathed, hoping he sounded more sweet than lecherous. It worked; Zoe smiled wide, blushing a bit, and stretched longer, finally tipping half of the way onto her stomach. He resisted the urge to lay flat out on her back and be done with it.

When she'd found her prize, she reached her free hand out to him, imploring, and Billy obliged, taking her hand and easing her up to sit at the end of the bed. He pushed some errant hairs back from her face and slowed his breathing, doing his best to exercise patience as she bit her lip and eased his boxers down over his prick. She didn't go down on him (Billy didn't expect her to), but she was curious enough to give him a good look and a few slow strokes before fussing the packet open and slipping the condom on him.

In a bit of a surprise move, Zoe fell back to the bed, arms flung over her head, wriggled up the mattress, and let her knees fall open, welcoming him. Her hay-colored hair fanned out gorgeously around her head. Right then, she couldn't have looked more perfect.

Billy brought a knee to the bed and crawled over her, dipping his head to press open-mouthed kisses and licks to her skin on the way up to her face, where she licked her own taste out of his mouth, moaning. She wasted no time wrapping her legs around the backs of his thighs, urging him to sink right into her, which he did, with a satisfied groan. He looked to her face for any signs of pain or discomfort. "'S good" was barely out of her mouth before he started moving his hips in slow circles that ended hard.

"Oh Jesus," she gasped, reaching down to grip his arse like she had when they were still clothed, egging him on. "Just like that, yeah," she whispered urgently, pulling him into her.

Billy closed his eyes, remembering Dom's hips again, the way they'd pulsed against Elijah's and then his own, his own hips mimicking that rhythm even now. You and me, he'd whispered against Billy's face. "God," Billy moaned low into Zoe's hair, moving harder and more insistent, tumbling quickly.

.

Betty wasn't a talker. In fact, she wasn't very noisy at all, so when they did slip out, the little moans, the high-voiced whimpers, even tiny little growls, each one was like a surprise, firing through Dom's nerves as he fingered her. Her hips moved to guide him, dipping and scooping, her pubes brushing against his belly. His hand ached, but he kept on with it, until she gripped her free hand in his short hair and tugged his mouth up to hers, kissing him hard and deeply, her lips biting and sucking.

When she pulled back, her hands yanked at his belt buckle and buttons, not at all surprised to have him nearly falling out in her hand, unhindered by underwear. "Figures," she giggled.

"Hey, we commandos have to stick together," he joked. It wasn't a good one, but it filled the void he was somewhat unused to.

He slowly pulled his finger from her body, soothing her hiss of the loss with a hum against her cheek as she looked down at his cock between their bodies. Dom was used to this, this quiet moment of measure, of the woman preparing herself for the possible discomfort of taking him. Her slim hand smoothed over the length, her thumb passing over the head and to that ultra sensitive spot just beneath the slit that brought shivered breath from his lungs.

Dom brought his damp hand up, his fingers coated with her wetness, the smell as strong and intoxicating as the taste as he sucked it from his knuckle. She grinned, still stroking him, her hand firm and practiced, and he traced her plush lips with the fluid, tugging her close to kiss it off.

She let go of his prick to delve into his back pocket, pushing into it until she grasped the packet she'd found earlier there and ripped it open, rolling it down on him swiftly. She had to climb off to pull his jeans down below his knees, pushing him back onto his elbows as she straddled him again.

Dom leaned back with no argument as she grabbed his hand and sucked off the rest of her juices before leaning down to tongue along his collarbones and his chest, her long hair caressing along his skin like wind or water. Billy's wouldn't do that, his mind supplied suddenly, abruptly derailing him. He looked down to watch her, made-up eyes, thick, pillowy lips, breasts hanging and sharp nipples brushing his abs. No, Billy wouldn't have those either.

He tugged her up, taking hold of his cock by the root to angle it against her and let her ease herself down, her body slowly taking him into its sweet warmth. He moaned loud at the feeling, pushing every other thought from his head.

.

There was no way to stop it now, that image of Dom in Billy's head; it was just there, mingling with the feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside the slippery vice of Zoe's body, his hand fisting the duvet, and Zoe's breathy cries in his ear. But that didn't trouble Billy so much as the fact that that image was what seemed to be driving him. He reached down with his free hand, clutching at Zoe's thigh to anchor him, but the image persisted, flickering across the back of his eyes.

Billy turned his face back into Zoe's neck, fastening his teeth to her skin there. "Mmnn," she answered, an urgent, high-pitched thing, one tiny hand drifting up to his back, clutching at the muscles there, the other still hard and insistent on his arse cheek.

Billy lifted up, changing the angle slightly, enabling him to go to a deeper place, and Zoe gave a sharp gasp and opened her neck up for him completely. He sucked along there hard, leaving traces of saliva and teeth marks and even slight bruises that she'd have to hide or explain the next day.

That image of Dom in his mind suddenly changed to something more mundane: Dom at dawn in the makeup trailer, the shape made by the arch of his back and the curve of his arse in profile as he stretched over the back of a chair, arms long, strong, and sinewy above his head. And then, there it was, a half-second flash of Billy actually fucking Dom, Dom straddling him in that same makeup chair and riding him, an impossible image, not only for the fact that Dom would never fuck him, but for the fact that it was the makeup trailer—they'd never been in there alone, and they simply never would be.

Nonetheless, there it was, so new, so utterly forbidden, making Billy clench his teeth and drive into Zoe harder than he'd probably intended. And he was way too far gone—too close to the end, too full of scotch—to discipline himself to push it out of there. Zoe was getting close, too, he could feel her thighs trembling and her voice going impossibly high the way some girls' did. Still, all he could see was Dom looking sweet and sunlit as he ground down onto his cock, arms draped over his shoulders, giving him that same flirty smile and those same unnerving eyes from earlier tonight. "Christ, shit," Billy gasped, glancing down to watch their bodies, glistening and flushed, meet each other in the middle, in a needy, staccato rhythm.

When Zoe went rigid and started moaning out an uncontrolled sort of Morse code, Billy finally looked at her face, coming back to her. She clenched her eyes, her muscles going tight around his cock, and Billy suckled at one of her tits again, helping her through it. Then suddenly, something broke, and she was still moaning, this time long breathy sounds of pure relief. She brought him up for a hard kiss. "Come on," she urged, and Billy lost himself, fucking her with all he had for the few thrusts it took for him to clench up in a grateful release.

.

The feathered serpent twisted and writhed as Betty worked herself on his cock. He kept his eyes open, watching the tattoo dance, and the perfect hourglass of her figure, tits bouncing. The wetness of her cunt covered his hand where he kept a light grip round the base of his cock, not to keep from coming, but to keep from penetrating her too far. He brought his thumb up from his fist, encouraging her with a hand on her hip to lean into it. She caught on, leaning forward so it would brush over her clit with each thrust.

"Unh, yeah," he groaned, moving his own hips, not up and down but in a circle to further the sensation. She whimpered, moving faster and harder, her fingernails driving into his bicep.

Her breath came harder as she fucked herself down, biting her lip as she tightened around him, the heat and friction becoming intense until with a rather animalistic yell, she came, rippling around him. Dom wriggled, grunting as she eventually began moving again, continuing to ride through aftershocks and then build her momentum back up.

"Christ, girl," Dom growled, having a hard time controlling his desire to drive up hard as she dropped down, both hands on the sheets to each side of his head, her hair raining down around him. She pulled his hand away from his cock, determined. "Keep fucking me. I can come again."

Dom huffed out a breath and tried, but with his shoes still on and his denims caught round his ankles, he just couldn't get the leverage. It didn't much matter though, she rode him at her own pace, and it wasn't long before he could feel her gearing up again. The second time was less strong, but she fell forward by the end, exhausted by the effort.

He moved subtly, hands still on her hips and trying to work towards it. Betty laughed, her mouth working along the tendon in his neck to his ear, nibbling along its edge. "Go on, then." With that, he gripped her arse and thigh, shifting her body over him as she clenched herself around him rhythmically, a remnant of the beat from the club. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on her teeth on his earlobe, the way her breath heated and cooled on his skin, the flash-press of Billy's lips on his...

Dom's orgasm was sluggish and bland, release pulsing out of him with a grunt and a sigh, but it was release and relief. He let his head fall back, suddenly aware of the sweat broken out on his skin and how Betty's tits stuck to his chest. He eased his cock out of her, terribly oversensitive, and reached under her thigh to get the condom off and toss it to the floor.

"Your ears are so fucking adorable," Betty murmured.

.

When Billy collapsed on top of her, Zoe let out a gasping giggle, running her hands over his back and through his hair, but he was feeling anything but carefree. He turned his head to give her a soft kiss on the lips, just as reassurance, but his mind was reeling. He pulled out of her, pulled off the condom, tied it, and discarded it a bit carelessly over the bedside, settling half-on half-off of her, one hand skating over the curve of her breast until she slapped it away, shivering.

He pressed his nose into her sweet neck and hacked out a breath, thoroughly disgusted with himself without the haze of desperately needing to come. He planted slow, feather-light kisses on Zoe's neck in some vain attempt to keep himself there, but the voice in his head was too busy reaming him. It repeated a mantra, like a child version of him at a chalkboard: I will never think about that ever again.

He leaned up, watching Zoe's profile, hoping to find distraction there, but she seemed distant, too, having thoughts of her own, maybe even regrets. He'd certainly seen his share of that before, especially in his younger, sluttier days. He'd had more than one girl cry guilty tears in his bed. Women were so strange about sex. Billy'd never truly understood it himself until he'd let Gavin fuck him. Then he'd understood it all too well.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered to her, hoping stupidly that it would help, and it did, her face softening a bit. But her mind was still going, he could see it all over her face. Maybe she'd been thinking of someone else, too. How was Billy to know? He knew nothing about this girl. Funny, it didn't seem like such a hindrance until this post-coital silence.

She squirmed uncomfortably, then turned, kissing him on the mouth, then his shoulder. "Can I have a shower?" she asked quietly.

"Of course." He turned away as she made her way out from under him, suddenly feeling as if watching her naked body walk to the bathroom would be an invasion of some kind. Billy pushed his face into the duvet, feeling like a complete and utter prick.

Once he heard the shower running, he reached deep for the energy to lift himself up off the bed. He bent over and picked up the sad-looking condom, discarding it properly on his way to the kitchen, where he downed two glasses of water. As he set the empty glass on the kitchen island, something caught his eye through it, a flicker of light. He frowned, spinning the glass in circles, finding nothing. Then, there it was, right in the center of the palm of his hand: a single rectangle of shiny metallic paper, one of those ceiling sparkles that'd gotten all in Dom's hair earlier in the night. Billy laughed out loud, running his other hand over his face and through his hair.

.

Dom smiled at Betty's remark, tucking a hand beneath his head as she slid off of him and lounged on her side. He traced the lines of the tattoo lightly again with his fingers."'S beautiful," he murmured.

"Mmm," Betty allowed his attentions for a few moments before pushing up and off the bed, finding the pins he'd dropped and repinning her hair messily. "Mind if I have a quick rinse off?"

"No problem," he nodded, "Should be a fresh towel in there."

Dom heeled his shoes off and kicked his jeans from his ankles. He dozed for the few minutes she took to wash, opening his eyes when the door opened again. She sat on the bed with the towel wrapped around her, covering that ink the same way her dress had.

"So what is it like?" Betty asked, one of her fingers tracing his ribs, "With your mate?"

Dom frowned. "I don't follow you," he said, though he had an idea.

She gave an amused shake of her head, "He and you aren't...?"

Dom hitched up on his elbows, "If we were fucking, don't you think I'd have gone home with him? I like women."

She looked long at him before smiling, "Alright, then. Didn't mean anything by it." She got up, dropped the towel and stepped into her dress, pulling it up.

Dom stood to help her zip it. "I've got a guest room if you want."

"Nah," she murmured, still smiling, "I'll just phone a cab."

.

Billy was still standing there naked, downing yet another glass of water when Zoe shuffled quietly into the kitchen, in all her clothes from earlier and seemingly ready to go. "Are you...? You don't have to go." He sounded like a little boy to his own ears.

"No, I'd like to go," she said quietly, in that same tone she'd used minutes before to ask for a shower. "You're incredibly sweet," she explained, stepping close and giving him a lovely kiss on the mouth. "I just... I can't tonight."

Billy nodded with a grimace, sensing more underneath her words, more that he couldn't know, that he'd never know. He kissed her sweetly. "I'll call you a cab."

"I already have," she admitted sheepishly, her hand light on his chest, and as if on cue, a horn sounded out front. Billy chuffed out the start of a laugh, and they both flailed a bit, awkward. She opened up one of her hands to reveal a slip of paper, possibly something torn from the edge of one of his script pages on the bedside table. It had her name and a phone number on it. She reached into her pocket, palming what Billy assumed were her keys, some notes, or both. "Maybe we can do this again. Properly."

"Definitely," Billy answered automatically, but as he watched her walk to the front door with a shy wave, he knew he'd never see her again. When she shut the door behind her, leaving nothing but silence and a vague memory in her wake, Billy felt relieved, glad to be alone.

.

Dom found Betty some money for her cab ride home, collected from two different pairs of jeans in the hamper. He didn't want to go out seeming like the bloke who mooched off his mates all the time, even though he'd never see this girl again. But she left with a smile, so he figured she at least got what she came for, a story to share with her friend.

He sighed and stretched, watching the cab drive away through the blinds. It had not been his best fucking, but he'd just been... distracted.

He padded back to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and stared for several seconds before chuckling. He could pass for a debauched rockstar looking like this, all oily, eyeliner swimming down his cheeks, his hair plastered darkly with sweat and bits of glitter, leather cuffs still round his wrists and the polish chipping off his nails. Still didn't feel like one, though.

He pulled on the water, the shower already damp and steamy, and stepped under it. His mind wasn't wavering with drink anymore. It was beginning to settle and solidify, recalling the night and its drunken shenanigans. Billy had been out of sorts. Dom still didn't know why, but in his attempts to make Billy feel better, something weird had happened.

And it shouldn't have, right? He'd danced with Orlando, though Orlando needed no help getting laid. He'd danced with Elijah and handed him off to a bunch of beautiful women, and if the little shit didn't thank him tomorrow, Dom was going to have something to say about it. He'd danced with Billy, hoping for the same result, and with a few stops and starts, they'd gotten it.

There was still the quick, fierce reminder of that kiss. Short and firm and chaste, and genuine. Dom touched his finger to his lips at the whisper of it he could still feel. So many of the silly pecks and snogs they'd had in the last few months, they were all for show, for an audience, for a laugh. This one had been only for them. You're my favorite, too. 'M so glad you're here.

Dom exhaled, a squeeze of something in his chest. He tried not to do this anymore. Getting enraptured with mates led to nothing except his own stupid heartache and jealousy. And if it led to something it always ended awkwardly, with jokes and not talking and generally feeling like an arse, and on a few occasions the loss of the mate entirely. And they still had so far to go on this, he and Billy and the rest of them, all of whom he liked very much. Just not quite as much as he liked Billy. As much as it seemed like Billy liked him.

Fuck.


	5. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November, Queenstown ~ 1999

The concierge had apologized profusely for the lack of space, a miscalculation in the reservations, apparently, but the problem was easily solved by some people doubling up, and others going to the hotel across the street.

“Alright, everyone. Get some supper and some rest, we have a five AM wake up call,” Pete's voice carried through the lobby, “Where’s Sean?” 

“Yeah?” Sean said, Allie passed out in his arms, her tear-streaked face on his shoulder with her thumb in her mouth.

Pete softened a bit, “Eat well. Can't have Sam looking peaky.”

“Right, boss,” Sean answered ruefully.

Dropping his suitcase at the foot of one of the beds in their room, Billy flopped down on it. Dom paced around, opening the wardrobe drawers and fiddling with the TV remote, standing at the window and tugging on the curtains as he looked out over the city, watching the billowing thunderstorm they’d just flown through unravel and pelt the city below. As dark as it was out there, it hadn’t even come up on five’ o’clock yet.

He looked down at his hands, shaking a little. There was no way he could rest, as pent up and freaked out as he was. “That was some plane ride.”

.

"Yeah," Billy folded an arm around the back of his head. "Nearly pissed myself more times than I could've counted." He glanced over the side of the bed, thankful for the umpteenth time that they had the ground beneath them again, or at least the hotel room carpet.

He glanced at Dom at the window, remembered how he'd gone completely silent and white on the plane, holding the arms of his seat as if they'd keep him from coming to any real harm. He sat up against the headboard, his voice going soft. "Hey. Y'alright?"

.

"Yeah, I'm just..." Dom started, twisting his ring round and round his thumb, watching the rain, "I hate those little planes. The big jets you don't get it as much, I guess they fly over it, but that little forty-seater we were on..." He looked down as his hands again, still quaking, his heart still beating nearly as fast as it had been when they finally landed.

Dom had more than enough time in planes, and if he ever got anywhere he wanted to be with this acting thing, he'd be on plenty more. Bumps and shudders were par for the course. But this was a whole other level of turbulence and he'd been scared absolutely shitless.

He kind of wanted some alone time, actually. Talking about it wasn't going to make him feel any better, even in present company. He wanted to sit in the relative stillness of being on the ground (compared to the intense jolts and rolls of the plane careening around in the sky) and meditate, maybe try to do some yoga to slow his blood down from racing. Billy didn't seem the sort of bloke that would rib him about it, but still, if he brought it up most people poked fun or wanted some amazing demonstration of dexterity. Ordinarily he didn't mind, but right now he just wasn't up for taking shite for his quirks.

Thunder boomed close enough to shudder the building. "S'really pissing it down now," he said quietly, waiting for the lightning flash.

.

"Yeah," Billy murmured absently, taking Dom in. He hadn't expected this kind of behavior from him. In fact, as soon as they'd gotten their room assignments, he'd had visions of Dom bursting through the door on his heels with grandiose declarations of bravery, running off at the mouth about how they'd cheated death and were better men for it. That the exact opposite seemed to be happening was more than jarring, and Billy didn't know what to do with it.

"Y'know," he found himself saying, "I used to be absolutely terrified of thunderstorms when I was little. At the slightest rumble, I would run to my room, dive under the covers, and pull them over my head. If my parents were in bed, I'd run into their room and dive between them." He inhaled deeply, remembering the feel of those sheets, the smell of them. "I quite like it now, though." His eyes darted over the landscape through the big window. "So long as I'm not outside."

He turned back to Dom, whose expression hadn't changed. "D'you need a drink? There might be a minibar in here. I haven't checked." He made to get up and peruse the room.

.

"No, not thirsty. Not yet, anyway." The lightning flashed brightly from multiple points. He smiled a little at the idea of little Billy during a storm, running to his mum and dad.

He didn't talk about them much. In fact he hadn't mentioned them much at all, beyond the day when Gran died and Billy had come over after work and tolerated him being maudlin. Dom was certain he wasn't the greatest company that day, but Billy had at least made him feel a bit less like a knob for not setting this whole rest of your life thing aside and flying home immediately.

Flying. Christ, he was jittery. He came back from the window, heeling off his shoes. He crawled up on his bed and sat cross-legged in the middle, facing the window with his back to Billy. "You mind if I just... sit here for a bit? I just want to calm down."

.

"Sure." Billy immediately reached for the remote on the nightstand, shut off the television, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, contemplating his next move. His eyes roved over Dom's back, the tense, tight lines of it under his jumper. "I'll, ehm, go explore a bit." He rose, grabbed one of the keys off the dresser, and pocketed it, giving Dom one last glance before making his way out the door.

The sterile quiet of the hall was far more welcoming than Dom's silence. He sighed and started strolling in what he thought to be the direction of the nearest vending machine. Before he could make any significant progress, however, Elijah popped out of one of the rooms across the hall, cigarette dangling from his mouth on the ready.

"Hey. Where're you headed?"

Lij quietly shut the door and plucked the fag from between his lips. "My room is non-smoking. I was hoping to find a balcony or something somewhere—been dying for one since that fucking plane ride. Where you going?"

"Dunno," Billy shrugged. He lowered his voice. "Dom wanted some time alone. I think he's still a bit shaken up."

Elijah nodded and exhaled heavily. "I don't blame him, it was pretty fucking scary."

"Mind if I follow you?"

"No." Elijah sounded pleased—he rarely had company when he went off for a smoke. "You in the mood for one?" He walked toward the elevator, indicating his cigarette. "You only really smoke when we go out."

Billy paused to consider. "I might be willing to make an exception right now."

Elijah clapped his hands a couple of times. "Awesome."

"Love endangering my health, don't you?" Billy shot him a smile, his mood brightening.

"Absolutely."

.

Dom let out the breath he was holding as he heard the door close. Closing his eyes, he took in another and held it, covering his face with the full breadth of both hands. It came out though, he couldn't hold onto the air in his chest, it was too full of skittering nerves.

Few things pissed him off more than the very sudden onset of terror like this. There they'd all been, shooting an enormous (and enormously fun) film, flying into the next location, yet another spectacular backdrop to walk through, chatting and joking, and suddenly everything was out of control, Allie was screaming, and even the bloody pilot had a sort of "this is the end" tone to his voice, and the only thing Dom could think was he was going to die. He was going to die, and that pissed him right off, because he wasn't fucking done. He'd barely even started.

But he hadn't died. The plane landed and he'd practically fallen down the stairs to the tarmac. He'd even managed to laugh when Billy got down on his hands and knees and kissed the ground. And yet, nearly an hour later, the everfucking needling hadn't ceased, that nearly voiced conscience with horns inside his head telling him, That was a warning, now you'd better hurry up and make something of yourself before I change my mind.

Scrubbing his hands over his short hair, he peeled the jumper off, yanked off his socks, and piled his rings on the bedside table. His cargos were loose enough.

There wasn't a lot of room, but the space at the foot of the bed would work as he kicked the area rug out of the way. Facing the window and the rain and that motherfucker of a storm that was responsible for all this twitchy fear he had roiling through him, he began in Tree pose, simple and centering, and began to breathe.

.

Ultimately it wasn't a balcony or a lounge but the back deck that met Billy and Elijah's requirements. It was mostly under cover, with an impressive awning over the seating area and a screen enclosure that, though it made them feel safer, wasn't really preventing the pool from overflowing.

Billy watched the water slosh and the trees sway perilously through a cloud of smoke as Elijah lit his own cigarette with a grateful groan. They stood quietly for a few long minutes, watching the chaos at a comfortable distance.

It was Elijah who eventually broke it. "So is Dom okay?"

"Ehm." Billy seriously considered the question. "I think he will be. I think he's still thinking about his gran quite a bit, and his family. Maybe he's a bit homesick. This is the first time he's been away from them this long. You know?" Elijah nodded. "I'm just guessing, though. He didn't say much of anything to me."

Elijah puffed away happily. "Well, if anyone can read his mind, it's you."

Billy smiled, getting used to the taste of a fag without the accompaniment of an alcoholic burn. "What d'you mean?"

"You know," Elijah paused, carefully choosing his words. "You guys just understand each other, like no other two people I've ever met. I've seen you communicate only using vague sounds and facial tics. It's like you knew each other in another life or something."

.

Dom exhaled, moving into Eagle pose as the thunderstorm growled. Wrapping his left arm and leg round the right, standing straight and breathing deep. With it was the tightness, the feeling of being bound by his muscles, by his fear. He inhaled and pushed upward into it from his balancing foot, feeling the bindings stretch.

His mum had been upset that he hadn't come home for the funeral. She was ever supportive of his endeavors, but this she hadn't understood, that this film would take him for so long and so completely away. His dad was more forgiving, making inquiries about the cost of the flights, the loss of time. But he'd be home at Christmas. The first one without Gran. 

He pushed the air from his chest and pushed against the stretch of the pose hard, holding it through the burn.

It wasn't as though he'd never lost a family member, but he'd been much younger, much more resilient to it, then. And he hadn't been halfway across the globe. And they hadn't been Gran, who lived only blocks away, who they lunched with every sunday, who joked and laughed and taught Dom how to cook. 

She'd been ill. He'd known it when he'd left. He'd even known it before he'd gone to France. Mum had tried to keep it hushed up, but Dom was, as ever, all ears. He remembered one of the last things she'd said to him, months and months ago, when he'd first auditioned for Frodo, the lead in what he was certain was his in to real film. 

"Ambition can make people do very good things and very bad things, my Dom," she'd said, with a girlish giggle, leaning over, "I hope you do a bit of both. But more of the former, for your mum's sake."

He breathed out and dropped the pose as the thunder clattered overhead, feeling his tense muscles begin to loosen, release, and, as the asana implied, fly.

.

"'S weird, isn't it?" Billy playfully scrunched his nose, but turned Elijah's idea over in his head more seriously. There was something predetermined in the way he and Dom interacted, even in those first moments in the costume trailer. He couldn't remember now what he thought of Dom before that first meeting, the impression of him he'd conjured from a combination of "Hetty Wainthropp," that intense headshot, and what little Pete had told him. All he could remember was that Dom wasn't what he expected. But Billy was quickly finding that that element of surprise was par for the course with Dom.

Beside him, tiny Elijah—also much, much different than he'd expected—sucked long drags off his cigarette. Billy laid a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. "How are you doing out here, Lij?" He couldn't imagine doing a project like this himself at eighteen; he'd have gotten into enough trouble to last a lifetime. "I know you've grown up quicker than most of us, but."

It took a moment, but there was no lack of certainty in Elijah's voice when he finally turned to Billy and answered: "I'm having the time of my life."

Billy smiled, grateful for that, gave him a rub on the back, and took another drag.

"I know we've all said it about a million times already, but there is something magical about this place. But that part doesn't even matter when you consider the cast. I mean, I'd be ecstatic to work in a maximum security prison with you guys." 

"Seconded," Billy answered firmly, with a note of affection in his voice. He turned to see some of the lighting guys heading toward the restaurant near the lobby. "We should probably get some food." He glanced at his watch. "I'll bring Dom something back, too."

Elijah nodded—"Yeah, I think my stomach's finally okay for eating"—finished the fag, then followed Billy inside.

.

The tension was leaving, his arms and legs feeling loose and free, and he grinned as the storm rumbled its dissatisfaction. He breathed through Mountain pose for several moments before bringing his arms upward and back, back until he bent at the waist into Half-Moon.

He felt every molecule of air moving in and out of his ribcage, bones arching to fill his lungs and then working to empty them as he concentrated on the door to the hotel room upside down.

When he came home at Christmas, he was determined to show his parents that doing this film was a good decision, one of those very good things Gran spoke of. And he would be certain that the family would not fall into sadness. First of all because he didn't want to return home that way and second, because Gran would not have tolerated that shit. Wherever she was, if she was anywhere, she'd chuck a fit and tell them they were all being a bunch of pathetic wastrels. He smiled, breathed out and came up.

She wouldn't tolerate him fretting about a near death experience like this either, she'd tell him to suck it up and realize he was alive. And now, having worked his body a bit, his blood had slowed and started moving properly, he could feel the oxygen in it, and he was almost back to center. He looked back at the storm, dissipating grudgingly, the rain pattering the window not quite so ferocious. 

Beat you, didn't we? he told it in his head, feeling cocky and challenging, Try again.

He shook his arms out, thinking of how he wanted to end, and decided on just doing a headstand, something all about balance, something he knew he could hold for awhile and just feel how settled he was. He grabbed the thin, ugly throw pillow from the armchair by the desk and set in on the floor, crouching on his toes as he placed his hands to have a sturdy, three-point base. Putting the crown of his head into the pillow, he tucked his knees in and inverted, concentrating his eyes on the door of the room as he used every muscle in his body to push his toes skyward.

.

The more Billy went abroad, the more he realized how far his accent often took him. With a little eye contact, a well-placed grin, and a sweet "Thanks very much," he could finagle anything from almost anyone. Though the hotel seemed to have a strict policy against bringing food up from downstairs—something to do with room service fees—he managed to convince the hostess at the front to pack up two three-course meals for him to take back to the room.

Elijah spotted Sean and his family across the room, waving them over. "I'm gonna stay. Give Dom my best."

"I will," Billy smiled. He accepted the hefty packages from the hostess—"Thanks very much"—and turned to head back upstairs. Truth be told, he probably would have chatted her up a bit more if he hadn't been so concerned about Dom; she was quite cute.

As he made his way up in the elevator, he actually found himself getting a bit anxious. He'd never seen Dom so unwilling to talk to him, so shaken. On the rare occasions he'd been so upset (the death of his gran, of course, being the biggest one), it had been understood, not just by the two of them but by everyone on the film, that Dom's boundaries didn't apply to Billy. Billy knew he shouldn't expect such access all the time. It was still early, and he wasn't that presumptuous or greedy. But not having it now set him a bit off-kilter. He hoped he could do his best to bring Dom out of whatever this was.

He took a deep breath before slipping the key card into the door, and when it swung open, he found Dom holding himself upside down. He cocked his head, holding back a laugh. "That's impressive."

.

Dom grinned at Billy upside down, watching him maneuver through the door with two carrier bags that he deposited on the desk. 

"You look tall from down here," he chuckled, and it threw his balance just a little off, making him clench his diaphram against the laugh and quell it, pointing his toes back at the ceiling. He'd held the headstand for seven minutes and wanted to make it to eight, at least. He used to be able to do ten minutes when he was really into it, but the smell of whatever Billy brought wasn't going to allow for that.

He counted another twenty slow breaths before slowly folding his knees to come out of the stand smoothly, coming back upright to find a bluish-purple sunset pushing the storm away. Grinning, he turned back to Billy triumphantly. "Bastard storm's moving off." He was sweaty and needed a shower, but more interested now in the food Billy was unpacking. "Where'd you go, and what did you bring me?"

.

"I take it you're feeling better." Billy removed piles of styrofoam cartons from the paper bags. Dom literally bounced on the balls of his feet, wordlessly begging for food. "I went to the restaurant downstairs. 'M not really sure what the girl gave me. I just asked for all the best items on the menu."

He peered into one of the cartons, surprised to find a selection of pastries. "Ooh." He tipped it in Dom's direction to show him. "Sweetheart of a girl." As Dom snatched a cream puff and popped it in his mouth, Billy looked him over. "How were you doing that just now? D'you have a secret career as an acrobat that I should know about?"

.

Dom chewed through the big mouthful of doughy vanilla, nodding as he poked through the other cartons. "Nah, just a bit of yoga," he said, more prepared now for any piss-taking. "I used to do it more. I ought to find a teacher out here, really."

He stripped the plastic from the forks, taking one of the salads and a pasta dish to his bed and settling on it, this time facing Billy.

"You smoked," he observed, mock-accusingly. Yoga always made him more aware of the air he breathed, and Billy had that telltale scent of tobacco hanging on his shirt with the scent of rain, "Did you find Elijah out there?"

.

"He found me. Peer pressured me into it, the bastard." Dom gave him the expected suspicious look in response. Billy sifted through the food in search of meat, finding (bless that hostess' heart) a massive burger that required its own carton. "Yes." He grabbed it, along with the pastries, and settled himself onto his mattress, lounging against the headboard in much the same way he'd been when Dom subtly asked him to piss off before.

Now utterly comfortable—and at ease, now that Dom was too—Billy took a generous bite of the burger and groaned, mouth full of meat, "Oh Christ, that's good." He swallowed and watched Dom shoveling salad into his mouth. "'S cool that you do yoga. I should've known, seeing you twist yourself into a pretzel on set all the time." Dom often performed such feats for Billy's amusement—and, Billy suspected, to keep himself awake during lulls. "I was just telling Lij how you're full of surprises, actually."

.

"Am I?" Dom asked rhetorically. He was inordinately pleased, watching steadily as Billy stuffed himself. Billy was surprising himself, the way he took Dom's idiosyncrasies in stride.

"You should come with me, if I find a class or something," he said, gesturing with a tomato on the end of his fork, "Yoga's great. It makes you breathe, makes you think and... like, reorganize your mindset. Makes you feel alive," he finished, popping the tomato in his mouth with a smile.

He cleaned out the salad carton and starting in on the pasta, a pesto fettuccine. "But, you know... We came that close to a plane crash, I do yoga and breath the fresh air and eat salad, and you suck on a fag and eat a heart attack on a plate. Each to his own, I suppose."

.

Billy laughed heartily, starting in on the side of chips. "Well. I've never been very flexible, so. I might as well throw the rest of my health straight out the window." He considered. "I would like to try it, though. Yoga."

Holding himself in a loose lotus position, Dom expertly twirled pasta onto his fork, a faint smile gracing his rather idiosyncratic face.

"'M glad you're feeling better. I was worried." Billy's seriousness broke when he noticed the green specks of pesto outlining Dom's mouth. He bit his lip, deciding not to tell him.

.

Slurping up a noodle, Dom studied Billy, working through his chips with a light grin that belied whatever sincerity he'd just spoken with. Outwardly, Billy was a jokester, but he had depths Dom felt like he saw more of than most. Which was saying quite a bit for himself, since Billy seemed very open-hearted to nearly everyone here. He could tell little white lies with the angelic innocence that gave even Elijah a run for his money, but when he was truthful – and Dom suspected he often was – and the situation called for it, he rarely held back.

"Worrying about me, eh?" Dom grinned, hopping from his own bed and onto Billy's to steal a chip. He twirled up another bite of pasta, chasing the potato with it, and arching a brow, "People will say we're in love."

He crossed his legs under him to face Billy, scratching at the sweat drying on his chest, and scraped up the rest of his pasta. "What were you thinking, when all that turbulence got really bad?"

.

Billy had half a mind to smack Dom's hands away—the bastard had a habit of stealing his food off his plate—but he decided, taking in his goofy green-rimmed grin, that he'd let it pass. He'd also let Dom's flirtation pass, where he'd ordinarily have taken that opportunity to rattle off a long list of all the things about Dom that repulsed him.

At Dom's prompt, he tried to recall what was going through his mind when Mother Nature was tossing their plane around like a rubber ball. He remembered being much more worried for Allie and his younger friends than for his own safety. As far as he was concerned, he'd done enough living by comparison. He was grateful to have been in love a few times, to have seen his sister have kids, to have left that shite job he'd hated to pursue his dreams. He'd been in plays and on telly. He'd been around the world, albeit for a fraction of the time that he'd expected to be there. At thirty-one, he felt like he'd lived a pretty full life, certainly fuller than he'd ever thought he would.

He turned to Dom, and the words spilled of their own accord. "Y'know, for a second, when it started to get really bad, after a few minutes of that, I started to feel... calm. Almost happy. I thought to myself, Wow. I can't wait to see my parents. I even pictured them standing on a big fluffy cloud with open arms, waiting for me." He turned his eyes to the window, leftover droplets of rain distorting the colorful sunset. "And I wished my sister was on the plane with me. Is that selfish?"

.

Dom blinked at Billy's candidness, and his unexpected answer. That he was so settled with his lot that he could let it all go like that... it made Dom feel selfish, chided almost, for thinking the way he had. The way Billy had it, Dom could have seen Gran again.

"No," he murmured, dropping his eyes to the patterned bedspread, "It's not selfish at all."

He climbed off the bed and pushed his cartons into the bin by the desk, reaching over to steal another of those cream puffs and scrubbing a palm over his sticky chest. "I need a shower," he said, stripping off his cargos by the bathroom door and tossing them over by his suitcase. He popped the pastry into his mouth, speaking around it, "What do you want to do tonight?"

.

As the lean lines of Dom's lower half were revealed, Billy found his eyes wandering. Dom was, thankfully, wearing pants for a change, but that didn't hide the taut muscle of his thighs and calves. The cut of him made more sense, now that Billy knew exactly how he kept in such shape. Though Billy suspected Dom's body had a lot of natural grace to it to begin with, unlike his, which he had to work pretty hard to maintain. It didn't help that he had a weakness for the kind of food sitting in his lap (and rolling around in Dom's mouth).

"Ehm." He took another defiant bite of the burger. After the shite they'd been through this afternoon, he'd have been happy to stay in the rest of the night. Especially with a five AM call the next morning. "Nothing too crazy. I think we could all probably use a drink, though."

Dom nodded with a wide-eyed expression.

"We can pop by Orli and Lij, see what they're doing."

.

Dom nodded again, smiling around a bunch of vanilla, and closed the bathroom door. Stripping fully, he started the shower and took a whiff of the provided soaps. The water was beautifully hot, and quickly took away any lingering ache of tension.

He wondered at Billy's ease with his life. He'd had the abridged version when they'd met, of course, and little smatterings of detail here and there between long delays and video game nights. To Dom's mind, Billy's life might have been wanting, growing up in the projects, orphaned at a difficult age, working a dead end sort of job up until only a few scant years ago when he'd saved enough to take one hell of a chance on a career that in ninety-nine percent of cases arrived at nothing. One could pity him very easily, but Billy absolutely didn't stand for it. It was an admirable thing, that Billy took life as it came with a shrug and a smile and an underlying yet immense amount of courage. Dom found it enormously impressive, that Billy had lived through all of it and come out the other side with such grace.

He scrubbed himself clean and dried off, tucking the towel around himself as he emerged and crossed the room to his suitcase. "Do they have a decent bar here or should we prowl around the vicinity?" he asked, pulling out a pair of jeans or eyeballing the heap of his cargos. "Should I dress to impress?"

.

Billy watched the lower half of Dom move under the towel. "I think if you don't dress, you'll impress," popped out of his mouth.

Dom turned, shooting him a curious smirk.

He decided that was a good time to toss the remnants of his dinner in the trash. "Maybe we can go ask my girl at the restaurant. She might have some ideas." With a deep breath, he made his way over to the closet and looked himself over in the full-length mirror on the door: his simple jeans, his not-so-fresh tee. Billy'd never had reason to complain about the way he looked—but he'd never thought he was anything to moon over, either. Terribly ordinary face, especially in Glasgow. Yes, the accent certainly didn't hurt abroad. 

He turned to his own duffel and rifled through it for something to wear—his standard collared button-downs, mostly. He gave a dramatic sigh. "Some of us aren't fortunate enough to be able to pretty ourselves up. Some of us can't wear eyeliner. We have to rely on our fading good looks."

.

"Well, now who's mopey?" Dom chided gently, pulling the jeans on and coming up behind Billy in the mirror, looking at him over his shoulder. "And who says you're fading, old man, eh?"

He tugged Billy's tee off over his head, so they matched in their jeans. "Look at that. You have pecs, man. Better than some of us can say. I'm the one wearing the bloody fat suit for my trouble. And hey–" he leaned over to grab another pastry from the bag, arching a lecherous brow, "–any girl who gives you these is saying something. Maybe I ought to bugger off with Elijah while you and your cream puff girl have some alone time, eh? It's always the vanilla ones you've got to watch out for, you know."

Dom turned back to his suitcase, pawing through his own selection of shirts, turning that sticky bit over in his head as he chewed through the sweet: If you don't dress, you'll impress.

.

A thick rush pulsed its way through Billy's abdomen when Dom reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. The feel of a blush heating his cheeks was almost foreign; no one had pulled that reaction out of him in years. Leave it to one Dominic Monaghan.

As he looked his body over with Dom, he had to concede: he was nicely meaty, especially considering his stature. All the free weights and push-ups weren't for naught.

When Dom mentioned the girl downstairs, he scrunched his face up, considering. Was he up for that level of effort tonight? It couldn't hurt to ask her for some guidance, or at least her opinion of the hotel bar. He pondered Dom's "vanilla" remark, wondering if he was subconsciously (or consciously) referring to Elijah. Billy had more than his share of suspicions there.

He whipped off his belt and shucked his jeans. "Alright. See you on the cleaner side."

.

Dom shook his head in amusement and Billy disappeared into the bathroom. He plucked through his shirts, trying to decide between a thin indigo button down or a fitted black jumper.

Compared to himself and Elijah, Billy had little to worry about with his looks. None of them stood up to Orlando or Viggo, but Dom rather felt he had the most work to do as far as being thought physically attractive. He looked at himself in the mirror: he had a little lean muscle, sure, but he was still lanky, boyish, with his ears sticking way out and his jaw off kilter. At least Elijah had his otherworldly, fey looks going for him.

Dom looked impish. He grinned at his reflection. Yeah, he looked like trouble, Gran had always said that too. Occasionally it had worked to his advantage. Like getting that second call back and coming down to New Zealand after all.

He pulled on the shirt and dug through his toiletry bag, finding his eyeliner pencil, and leaned into the mirror.

.

Though the hot water felt unbearably good and deserved on his body—now completely satiated, too—Billy only gave himself a quick, half-hearted wash. He was eager to get out of the room and get a drink, and more than eager to talk to the cream puff girl again, especially after Dom's vote of confidence.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Dom was leaning toward the mirror in what looked like an uncomfortable position, bent nearly in half over the writing desk moving a pencil slowly underneath his eyes. 

Billy stole a good look at him as he moved to slip the eyeliner back in his duffel. Even as he pulled at the ends of his hair, he looked dark and dangerous. Billy smiled. "Remind me not to introduce you to my girl tonight." He frowned at the pile of wrinkled shirts spilling out of his bag. "What should I wear?"

.

Dom flashed his eyes up at him, smiling lazily as he put together only a couple of the snaps, and then dug out a multicolored scarf to tie over the top.

"You look good in the green one. Or the black one," Dom shrugged, tugging at the short, damp tufts of his hair. "Or the blue one."

Dom fussed at himself in the mirror, using it to surreptitiously watch Billy dress. He'd wondered at Billy, even since their very first meeting. He was so small, same as Dom was, but absolutely no part of him out of proportion, not like Dom with his big silly ears and hands and feet, or Elijah's crazy eyes. Everything about Billy worked, fit, he looked like a fifteen stone man shrunk to a five and a half foot package. And Dom had learned early on in fight training not to cross him. Small but mighty, he thought, grinning. Over the past month or so, he'd catalogued the sort of women Billy went for as well: petite, rather cute ones. Vanilla. He chuckled quietly, wondering just how vanilla Billy might (or might not) be.

"You think you'll pull her?" he asked.

.

Ultimately, Billy went for comfort, deciding on a deep green jumper that was soft against his skin and hugged him in all the right places. He pulled it over a pair of worn, faded denims, and tucked his requisite black cord necklace under the collar.

"We're here a while—that might get awkward if it doesn't work out. Like pulling a waitress at your favorite pub." Her sweet smile flashed across his mind. "'Sides, I'm not sure she's the pulling kind." The truth was, Billy was finding he wasn't so much the pulling kind lately. He wanted to blame it on focus, on wanting to give what he suspected to be the most important project he'd ever do his best. But he also suspected it ran deeper than that.

Billy pocketed his key again and turned to Dom. "Done primping, sweetheart?"

.

Dom pondered Billy's clothing choice, and his words. Billy's been all sparkles for this girl before (enough that Dom wanted a good look at her), and now here he was dressing for drinks at the pub with mates before turning in early. Which they'd more than likely be doing, of course, given the circumstances. Dom's adrenaline was finally giving out, combined with the yoga and the food was making feel the sort of warm and sleepy that could only be topped off with a good beer and a comfy bed. And now he was looking decidedly overdressed.

But he shrugged at this. It was what it was. He looked good, he wanted a drink, and the make-up girls would scold him for not taking off his eyeliner in the morning.

"Suppose so," he rumbled, fingering the tie of his scarf as he grinned at that silly jab and added one of his own. "You can always tell her I'm your date, then, eh? Would I make her jealous, you think?"

.

"You're pretty enough to make any girl jealous," Billy quipped, glad again that Dom's mood had taken such a sharp turn for the better. He gave his scarf a quick tug to punctuate the statement.

They quickly made their way out of the room and across the hall. "Speaking of primping, I hope Orli doesn't keep us here an hour." Billy knocked.

Elijah answered, wearing sweats and a playful expression. "What are you doing here?" He looked Billy over. "I thought you'd have eloped with the girl downstairs by now."

Billy groaned, now a bit embarrassed.

"You had to see it," Elijah laid a hand on Dom's shoulder solemnly. "I have never seen anyone work someone over like that in my life. Seriously."

"Shut it," Billy groaned, shoving at him lightly. "You guys up for a drink?" He peered over Elijah's shoulder in search of Orlando.

.

Elijah's eyes went wider, taking in Dom's get-up and then Billy's. "Are we going out out?" he glanced down at his sweats.

"Not really," Dom said, draping himself over Billy's shoulders and batted his lashes, "I dressed up for Billy. He's been paying me compliments all evening. Makes me feel special."

Lij lifted an eyebrow, "When's the wedding? Seriously Bill, are you on a roll or what? Hey shithead!" He turned back into the room with the pair of them trailing him, "Wake up. We're getting beer."

"Mmmbeer," Orlando yawned, rolling over and stretching luxuriously on his bed.

Dom frowned at him, letting Billy go, "We nearly died a fiery death a few hours ago and you're sleeping?"

"Yeah man, I always pass out after a ride like that, what a fucking rush," Orlando rolled off the bed, grinning broadly, "Wasn't it fantastic?"

Dom snorted at him, a bit disgusted. "Right, what a rush, man. Did you not notice Allie was terrified?"

.

Orlando stretched, squealing something that sounded like, "Christ, we're all fine, get over it." His hands crept underneath his shirt, scratching there leisurely. "Drama queen."

Billy laid a hand on the back of Dom's neck to calm him, leaning against the door frame. "I think we all need to get good and pissed. How's the bar downstairs? Do you know?"

Elijah shrugged. "Some of the stunties said they were gonna head over after dinner—should be decent."

With a firm nod, Billy stepped past Elijah and lounged on one of the beds. "If it's good enough for a man five times my size, then it's good enough for me."

Dom entered too, lingering by the door, and Elijah shut it after them, heading for his rolling suitcase. "I'm down. Just give me a minute to change."

Billy turned to Orlando. "Will you be joining us, Leggy?"

Orlando swaggered over to him, drawling, "Sure. Might as well give you a real reason to dish out the compliments." He tickled Billy under the chin and shot a wink in Dom's direction.

.

Dom made a move to take Orlando down a level, but a quick hard look from Billy stayed him. Still, his lip curled that Orli had so little concern for the other people on the plane. He made a mental note to make Allie laugh next time he saw her, and to talk to Martin a bit tomorrow. He had come off the plane looking rather green, and being the youngest of all the size doubles, he'd probably been spooked about it as well.

While Elijah slithered into jeans and a clean shirt, Orlando merely sniffed the pits of the long-sleeved tee he was already wearing and scrubbed a hand over his ridiculous mohawk in the mirror, squinting at himself. It just served to irk Dom more, that Orli simply rolled out of bed looking effortlessly good, and he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. He'd forgotten to put his own rings back on, giving himself little to fidget with.

"You gonna go for that chick again, Billy?" Elijah leered, glancing over Dom again, "Should have seen him, dude, she was all leaning over and doing that hand on the arm thing. Plus I don't think she charged him for half of the food."

"Mmm," Dom muttered, not especially interested in the subject anymore. He wanted a stiff drink and good night's sleep, which might prove difficult if Billy did decide to get laid tonight after all.

.

Billy had to hold back a smile as he watched Dom seethe by the door. He wanted to pull him aside and tell him Orlando simply wasn't worth such venom, love him though he did, but doing that didn't seem worth the effort, either; Dom was prone to these little outbursts. And Billy actually enjoyed watching them, truth be told.

"If you don't stop mentioning it, I won't talk to her at all, just to spite you," he laughed at Elijah.

Orlando stood in the middle of the empty stretch of carpet by the window, shrugging.

Billy gasped. "That's it? Not going to ask us if you look fat in those jeans?" For some reason, this kind of ribbing only earned a delighted smile from Orli when it came from Billy. He rushed over to where he still lounged on the bed and knocked him clear over, proceeding with a quick tickle torture.

"Come on," Elijah whined, separating them. "I want alcohol."

Dom already had the door held open, and waited beside it with a look of forced patience.

.

Dom loved Billy's laugh, all of the many incarnations of it, from the quick, sharp, wicked little giggles to laughing so hard he might pee, tears coming out of his eyes. Today, Dom decided Billy's laugh sounded better when it was him making him do it. Of course, Dom could do it without merely tickling him to death.

Elijah left first, then Billy with Orlando draped over him like an octopus, still trying to get him to squeal. Dom trailed behind, glowering. Mostly at Orli, but also at himself. He had a point; they were all fine now. 

When they piled into the lift, Billy shrugged Orlando off, standing close to Dom and glaring a bit at Orlando himself, which lifted Dom's spirits further. When the arrived at the lobby they crossed as one, until passing the arched restaurant entrance, Orlando murmured, "Oh, hello," under his breath and broke off. Dom followed his approach toward the hostess and shook his head.

"Three... two... one... and she's hooked," Dom narrated, watching the Orlando flash that dazzling grin of his and having the girl thoroughly melt in response. "I hope that wasn't your sweetheart, Bills."

"Dudes! The bar's this way!" Elijah called out, pointing, and exasperatedly taking it upon himself to physically wrangle Orlando back in the right direction.

The girl smiled after all of them, and she was awfully cute. "Leave that one be, love! He's a heartbreaker," Dom called out to her cheekily as they continued on to the pub, draping himself over Billy again, "This is the one you bring home to Mum!"

.

The hostess seemed even more embarrassed than Billy at all the attention.

"Remind me to fucking kill you later," Billy growled into Dom's ear before pushing off in the direction of the restaurant entrance. He hung back for a moment, allowing her to take care of some actual customers before he approached with a boyish shrug. "Sorry about that," he gestured behind him. "Two of them are English and one's American, so."

She gave a breathy laugh, clearly not bothered at all, and lowered her lovely eyes back to her tablet—a list of reservations, perhaps. "That's okay." 

"Thank you so much, again, for all the food before. As you can see, my roommate's feeling much better now, thanks to you. What's your name?" Billy stepped forward, extending a hand to her.

She paused to smile knowingly before answering: "Grace." 

"Billy—nice to meet you." He needed no hesitation; the girl was sweet, but she had no misconceptions about what was going on here. She'd clearly gotten it before, and probably countless times in this very spot. "Ehm. When are you done here?"

Grace squinted at a clock hanging across the room. "About half an hour."

"Well, if you aren't doing anything, you're more than welcome to walk across the hall and come watch my friends act like idiots again."

"You asking me to stay at work longer than I have to?" she shot back.

Billy laughed, impressed. "I was only making a suggestion." He knew from the color to her cheeks, however, that she'd come to the bar. "So thank you again, Grace. I'll just be going to the bar now, where I will sit and drink with a full stomach and no expectations."

.

Dom chuckled as he lingered at the pub entrance, watching Billy with the girl. Oh, he was good, with his casual approach, and his smooth enough about me segues. Dom didn't need to hear what was being said to know that Billy was still offering his interest, but little more. 

"Vanilla," he leaned over to murmur as Billy crossed back to him. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and tipped the girl a wink. 

The hotel's pub appeared to be a fairly popular local hangout, with quite a few regulars raising their brows at the array of the Rings crew invading their turf. But it was very typically British pub and had dozens of decent beers on tap. Lij and Orli had already secured a table and were trading jibes with the stunties.

.

"Why are you so quick to judge?" Billy murmured back to Dom, giving a final glance to Grace over his shoulder. "Thought I was pretty vanilla when you first met me, didn't you?" He gave Dom's side a playful squeeze and trotted ahead.

After another round of ribbing from Lij and Orli, Billy settled in the corner booth with a pint of Guinness and a smile on his face. Once Dom finally joined them, Elijah raised his glass in toast. "Alright. Here's to being alive. And never have I meant that more than I do right now."

"Cheers," they all sang in a hearty chorus.

Elijah hesitated, staring at the rim of his glass. "What were you guys all thinking about while it was happening?" Billy's eyes shot over to Dom, who was busy trying to look distracted by something going on at the other side of the bar. "I mean, I know they say you're supposed to see your life flash before your eyes and shit, but I couldn't stop thinking about all the stuff I hadn't done yet."

.

Dom looked away at Elijah's question, focusing on Lawrence and Sala talking with another pair of big local Maori over at the bar. Leave it to Frodo to be all soulful and oblivious.

"But that's the best part about any rush, mate," Orlando spoke up, smiling widely across the table. "You look at your life and you think of everything you mean to do, everything you can do but haven't yet. Then, when you haven't died, you have that much more reason to live. It's like waking up from the dead."

Elijah thought about this and nodded, fistbumping Orlando across the table, "Right on. I like that."

Dom looked down at his fingers in his lap, twisting his fingers around where there weren't any rings to twist.

"We need to do something," Orlando slapped the table. "This is fucking New Zealand, right? Birthplace of extreme sports, this. We need to go bungee jumping, or something."

.

As Orlando nearly ejected out of his seat with excitement, Billy noticed Dom's hands under the table, shaking and pulling at each other in his lap, betraying the cool he'd implemented from the waist up. On instinct, he reached over and laid his own hand over one of Dom's. "Thanks but no thanks, Orli. I like my fear of heights," he mused, as if discussing his jumper. "I think I'll keep it." He gave Dom a gentle smile while still addressing Orlando. "You want to do something extreme? Go arm wrestle Sala."

And that shut the elf right up—and made Elijah spit his beer back into its glass.

"I just got a mental picture of him tossing you on your ass," Lij mumbled.

Under the table, Dom sandwiched Billy's hand between both of his and rubbed it vigorously. 

Orlando raised an elegant eyebrow at him. "What are you, pulling one off under there?"

.

Dom grinned, first at their hands as he exaggerated and slowed his motions, and then lasciviously up at Orlando, his tongue sneaking out between his teeth.

"Dude!" Elijah blurted, ducking under the table to see their hands. He came back up with his eyebrows askew.

Dom smiled, bringing Billy's hand up to kiss the knuckle before letting it go. He was grateful for Billy's instincts to distract, for his small comforts, and for his confidence. He was grateful for him in general, really.

"Sala would spin you around three times before you even tightened your grip," he lifted his chin at Orli.

"Would not." 

"SALA!" Dom shouted across the room. "Bloom here wants to arm wrestle you!"

Sala's face lit up, and Orlando slid down a bit in his seat.

Dom pulled out his wallet, "Ten quid, then. Who else thinks Sala will annihilate the Elf?"

.

Billy let a self-satisfied smile creep across his face as he tucked into his pint in earnest. When Sala hulked his way over, Billy's smile extended to him in welcome. 

"Twenty on you, big man," Elijah squeezed Sala's bicep for good measure.

"Oh, I'm not sure this is fair." Billy laughed through the vast understatement, settling into his seat for what would undoubtedly be a show.

Sala pulled up a stray chair and sat on it backwards, pulling his sleeve up to brandish his massive arm. A big puff of air expelled from Orlando's mouth as he looked at it. Elijah threw his head back and cackled, applauding.

"That is a huge, huge arm." Billy's eyes locked on Orlando's, dropped to the pile of money on the table, then lifted back to him. "You have to do it. There's no turning back now."

Orlando begrudgingly sat up straight and scooched forward, bracing his arm on the wood by the elbow with a grimace.

Billy reached an arm around Dom's shoulders and pulled him close, turning his mouth to his ear. "This is all your fault, you know. Who'll replace Orlando when he dies in about two minutes?"

.

"My fault?" Dom turned minutely, rather aware that Billy was so close, whispering back, "It was your idea of an extreme sport. You think up something to make him feel better."

He took a gulp of his pint, settling back under Billy's arm to watch the commencements. A few of Sala's group added to the pile of cash.

"Don't hurt me too much," Orlando asked with big brown puppy eyes, "I have to be able to shoot at you tomorrow."

"Pretend to," Dom pointed out, finishing his Guinness, "Arrows to be added in post."

Orlando shot Dom two fingers with his unoccupied hand, as the right was being completely enveloped by Sala's huge fingers.

"Right, on three then," said Lawrence from behind, "One... two... thr–"

Orlando's hand hit the table. Dom's empty glass and every free beermat jumped a clear inch. Dom cackled gleefully.

.

"That give you your thrill, Orli?" Billy gripped his glass two-handed to prevent it from toppling.

Orlando shot him a good-natured glare, seeking solace in his drink (something girly, of course) while everyone collected and congratulated Sala on proving his manliness once again. 

"That really wasn't fair," Elijah convulsed with silent laughter, already drunk, leaning heavily into Orlando, who did his best to shove him off. "Aww." He wrapped his arms around Orli's neck in an affectionate headlock, pulling him awkwardly back against him. "I think we need to give the elf a chance to rebuild his ego."

Billy bent his elbow, fingering the hair at Dom's nape, a gesture that was quickly becoming a habit of late. "Hmm." He turned to him, watching his eyes sparkle and shift between the smudges of kohl. The second time he'd ever seen Dom dress like this—probably as early as their first weekend together—he'd told him he wore makeup better than any woman he'd ever met. "What do you think?"

.

"I think I need another pint," Dom rumbled, but made no move to get up. "Why don't you let him arm wrestle you. At least the competition would be more evenly matched."

"No way, dude," Lij shook his head, squeezing Orlando's bicep, "He'd kick my ass, I have no problem admitting it."

"But it would make Orli feel better," Dom shot him a cheeky, tilting grin.

Dom arched his neck into Billy fingers as Sala's group moved back to their own table nearby, one of whom gave Sala something more substantial to wrestle. Maybe it had been low and underhanded, but he'd cut Orlando down to a size he could deal with. A waitress came around to take refill orders, making Dom settle more happily where he was in the crook of Billy's arm.

"What other extreme sports can Orlando attempt in a Kiwi pub?" Dom queried, "Extreme darts? No, could be bloody, and then Peter will blame me. Extreme Pool?"

"I just need a cuddle now," Orlando said.

Elijah spread his arms wide in indignation, "I was just cuddling you! You pushed me off!"

"You bet twenty quid against me," Orlando shot him an injured pout. "The only person who took my side was Bill."

Dom rubbed Billy's knee, which was pressed against his own, "To be more accurate, he remained rather neutral. Switzerland."

.

"I'm Swiss," Billy agreed brightly.

"At least he didn't betray me, like! You and your filthy money." Orlando's eyes darted around the pub.

Before Dom could pipe up That's 'cause he's cheap!, Billy clamped a hand over his mouth—and decided not to remove it for quite a while. He continued about his business, one palm wrapped around the lower half of Dom's face throughout, try though Dom did to repulse him by tonguing his palm. He drank, he whistled.

Elijah's eyes lit with an idea. "Why not get Strider to cuddle you? He's right over there." He pointed across the bar, where Viggo had settled in with a bunch of locals he didn't know from Adam, of course. Elijah exchanged a look with Billy; it'd been a running joke between them, Orlando's "admiration" for Viggo. They'd spent the better part of the past couple of weeks inventing scenarios in which Orli would try to steal Liv's part in the film from her.

"Fuck off," Orli protested, no venom whatsoever in his words, only panic.

Both their eyebrows rose at this pleasantly surprising reaction.

"That's not really a challenge, though," Billy pointed out. "Viggo's a cuddly guy. 'S like challenging Dom to snog you." He finally removed his hand from Dom's face, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Or blow you," Elijah added.

.

"Now now, snogging and blowing are two very different operations, young hobbit," Dom pointed out.

"Dom wouldn't snog or blow me," Orlando said, eying him speculatively, "He's been mad at me all night."

Dom balked at this particularly astute observation, thankful that the arrival of their refills gave him a reprieve from answering and took a deep drink of his new pint, licking foam from his lip.

"Billy might though," Orlando grinned, "Billy likes me, maybe even loves me."

"Snog you or blow you?" Elijah asked.

"Neither," Dom shook his head. "Billy's far too straight and true for any of that. Besides, what if his lady friend should see?"

"You and Billy snog all the time," Elijah pointed out. "Since like day one."

"That's not snogging, Peach, that is merely pecking, bussing, smooching," Dom said, lifting his hand to lace his fingers with Billy's rather spitty ones, still draped over his shoulder, and grinned. "Besides, I'm different. Special, even."

.

Billy had to hide his smile with his glass at Dom's "straight" remark. He loved having a secret, especially one so good. It's not that he was intentionally keeping it from Dom; they shared everything, and he had no fear that Dom would judge or freak out. It's just that he'd never asked. That, and he kind of loved knowing that Dom didn't know. 

"You certainly are, sweetheart." He gave him a peck on that space of skin before his ear started, then turned to Orli. "And I don't think my lady friend will mind if she sees me snogging you. It's my understanding that women like that sort of thing. And Lij, stop saying snog. It's just not right."

Elijah pouted. "I wanna be cool and British too."

Orlando leaned across the table, chin in hand, and batted his eyes at Billy. "What do you say then, Bill? Does Pippin love Legolas enough to lay one on him?"

"Ew, role playing," Elijah muttered to Dom.

"Not without a little something to make it interesting."

"Like tongue?" Elijah waggled his own.

Billy leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, pondering what the terms should be.

.

"Watch it, Elf," Dom rumbled, holding him back with his beer as a shield. "If they left me babysitting the Prince of Halfings, I think I should decide who he's snogging."

"Tongue," Elijah said again. "Open mouthed, like, so we can be sure you aren't staging it."

"Bill, you wouldn't," Dom looked disgustedly at Orlando's frothy drink. "There would be fruity residue all over you from that thing. It would make your Guinness go off."

Elijah was busy miming tongue kissing nothing, and Dom kicked him under the table.

"I bet ten quid Billy'll snog me," Orlando said, leering at Billy while he took his marachino cherry by the stem and popped it between his perfect teeth as if that would be alluring. Elijah pulled ten out himself.

"I bet ten he won't," Dom matched. He didn't doubt Billy was capable of deep snogging a man, he just doubted that Billy would do it for such a small sum of money. The man had stealthily leeched two hundred off Dom in a game of Scrabble a few days after they met. Thirty quid wasn't quite worth it.

.

Dom's skepticism only gave him more motivation, more than any amount of money would. Always so adamant—fiery, even—about his opinions, Dom was rarely proven wrong by anyone (even when everyone knew that he was, in fact, completely wrong). Billy'd burn the money in exchange for the look on his face.

As soon as Dom's ten hit the table, he was out of his seat and marching over to the other side of the table. He slid into Orli's side of the booth, cleared his throat, and pulled him in by the collar of his shirt, wasting no time working his mouth open with his tongue.

.

Dom's jaw fell open in disbelief the second Billy's warm body left his side, but he'd firmly snapped it shut by the time Billy had his tongue in Orlando's mouth. Even so, he felt his ears heat up, that he'd underestimated the lows his mate might sink to for pocket change. 

Elijah chortled gleefully, until Orlando groaned and clamped his hands on the back of Billy’s skull, holding him there. A grin attempted to shine through Billy's mouth, even as his tongue twisted visibly with Orlando's. 

"Dudes," Lij laughed, darting a glance around the pub. This didn't faze their attempts to taste each others tonsils in the least. 

Dom sank down in the booth, looking away, down at his beer, though that didn't take away the wet sounds and the short sharp growl that came from somewhere in Billy's throat. The sound woke something in Dom's gut, something that grew and sprawled inside him that tasted bitter against his own tongue.

.

Orlando wasn't a great kisser—Billy suspected because he was so good-looking—but he wasn't bad, either. And he felt good under Billy's hands, which wasn't a surprise. Still, Billy wouldn't have been putting in nearly as much effort without a certain pair of eyes on them. There were probably other pairs of eyes, too, ones he should've been more concerned about, but that didn't seem to deter him from snogging Orlando like his life depended on it. He was proving something here, and he was going to prove it right.

He shifted in the booth, pushing Orlando against the back of it as much as he could in such an awkward position, sliding his hands over his chest and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Orlando went oddly pliant under him, and Billy teethed at his bottom lip with a triumphant grin. 

"Ho-o-ly shit," Elijah tittered to Billy's right somewhere. Orlando licked his lips and mumbled something that sounded like Gah.

Billy gave him a friendly pat on the stomach and made his way back to his proper seat, pointedly avoiding Dom's eyes the whole way. He took another drink, the second round of notes in the middle of the table completely forgotten. He drummed his fingers on the wood and hummed a tune he'd had stuck in his head for days, perfectly content to not try to figure out where it came from.

.

"Dude, I don't know if thirty bucks was worth quite that much effort," Lij shook his head. 

"Yes it was," Orlando, said pulling the pile toward himself and counting it with a flourish, "I think I fell in love."

"Point taken," Dom muttered, draining his glass and thumping it down, "I need a slash."

He got up, leaving Elijah's persistent giggle behind, and wove through the tables to the loo. 

Staring at his reflection in the grubby mirror above the urinal, he considered this new turn of events. He'd seen plenty of little scenes like that, even been a participant, but he'd rarely felt jealous over it. It had been years since he'd played the other side of the fence, and he'd been fine with that decision. It had been fun, but it would take a certain type of bloke to make him turn that way again. 

He shook his head, the couple of beers in him doing their work. Billy was an interesting one. But he chalked this odd jealousy up to the fact that Orlando had been inviting Dom's temper in all night, and dammit, Billy was his. They all knew it. It was unspoken. 

He rinsed his hands and pushed his way back to the main room. Near the bar, he spotted Billy's girl trying to get the bartender's attention. He made towards her when a big man stepped before him, closing off any path through.

"Oi mate, let a bloke through, eh?" he said. 

"This one's got make-up on. What, you need to get back to your fairy friends?" the man said, and the rest of his group grunted. 

"Mates, come on, we're just having a laugh," Dom shrugged with a grin. 

"That's not what it looked like from here," another man said.

Dom turned to find another way around, but a large hand clapped on his shoulder. "Mate," he growled, not amused now, "You want to leave off."

"Or what?"

.

Dom's reaction—the way he'd practically pushed Billy onto the floor to get out of the booth—was absolutely perplexing. Billy couldn't think of any reason a bit of fun like that wouldn't get at least a smile out of him, let alone piss him off so much. He'd imagined the kiss spurring something more animated, more impressed, followed by a long conversation full of playful shoves, proposals, "You don't snog a man like that unless you've done it before," and the like. 

"What was that about?" Elijah glanced between he and Orlando with wide eyes.

Orlando scoffed, stuffing the money into his wallet. "He's just upset 'cause he thinks you'll be calling off the wedding now."

Unwilling to contribute, Billy started in on his second pint. He was truly concerned now. Maybe it was pure pride at work, but that didn't make sense to Billy; pride went virtually out the window when it came to the two of them. At least until now.

"Hey, Bill—isn't that your girl by the bar? The chick from the restaurant?" Elijah craned his neck and pointed vaguely.

Billy scooted forward, his eyes instantly finding tiny Grace, chatting with a friend, one of the waitresses, it looked like, and holding out a wad of cash as if it would make her more visible. He sat back and smiled to himself, pleased that he'd been right, that she'd decided to come, almost enough to get him out of his seat and over there to buy them both a drink and welcome them over. But he knew it was best to play it cool, let her come to him.

"Oh fuck," Orlando drawled, a little too loud. He was staring off a bit of a distance behind Billy.

"What?" At Elijah's equally shocked expression, Billy turned in his seat, his gaze falling on Dom over by the loo door, surrounded on all sides, it seemed, by a bunch of thick-armed thick-headed pricks. He was out of his seat instantly. "Stay here," he commanded Elijah (knowing he wouldn't listen) before calling out to Sala and nodding in Dom's direction.

Sala—bless him—grabbed a bunch of the bigger stunties and went off like a shot after Billy. As they marched toward the impending scuffle, Billy stole another look at Grace by the bar and thought, Well, there goes that.

.

Dom's shoulder blade collided with something hard and sharp on the wall the instigator shoved him into, the corner of a picture frame or something similar. A few choice phrases had barely left his mouth when suddenly Billy was stepping in front of him looking deadly, and in another second, Sala was in front of him and a considerably better match.

"You got a problem with my mates, here?" Sala asked.

The man was surprised, but hid it well, not realizing his entire group was now fenced in. "I've a problem with a bunch of twinks moving in on our pub thinking they can mack in public, yeah."

"Why not?" Sala took a step up to his space, "You lonely? You need a bit of a cuddle yourself, eh?" Sala lifted his own chin and puckered up, making the big lout back up and get pushed around by the rest of Sala's gang, his own crew having seen the lot and backed off to leave him to it.

"Oi!" the pub manager was calling, "No fighting in here, lads! No fighting! Take your issues outside!"

All was confusion, and amongst men three times their size elbowing each other roughly around, Viggo appeared out of nowhere, seemingly trying to make peace. Billy had Dom by the arm and the neck and was pulling him out of harm's way back toward the table.

Elijah was already on his feet and looking serious, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Dom said, perhaps snappier than he meant to. He shrugged out the ache on his shoulder and downed the rest of his beer in a few gulps, still standing. "But I think we've outstayed our welcome."

He glanced at Billy, shaking his head with a relieved smile, "Thanks mate," he said, clapping him on the arm, "Was nearly minced back there."

.

"No problem," Billy mumbled with another backwards glance, distracted. He was past the age when getting into a fight was even remotely exciting. It amazed him, how easy it was within in the confines of their group to forget how ignorant most of the world still was. "We'd better fuck off, then."

Elijah nodded quickly, urging Orlando up out of his seat (still fairly comfortably on his arse, the poncy bastard) so they could do just that.

As they passed the bar, Billy locked eyes with Grace and his mind raced. She threw her arms up in an elaborate shrug, shaking her head. Her friend giggled. Billy wasn't sure how to play this; it wouldn't have been too horribly out of line to ask her back to their room, especially if she'd have a friend along. But as he walked by, he found himself saying, "Not tonight, I guess."

"Guess not," she laughed. "Maybe some other time."

Billy gave her what he hoped was a sweet smile and not a grimace, walked out the door, and that was that. He draped his arm over Dom's shoulders. "Two near-death experiences in one day, eh?"

.

"Yeah," Dom gave a airy chuckle. Crossing the lobby, they piled back into the lifts, and Dom glanced at his watch, his hand quivering again with adrenaline. It was still early, but he figured that was more than enough excitement for the night.

"Shit, Dommie," Orlando shook his head with a grin, "Just can't take you anywhere, can we?"

"Oi, fuck off, alright?" Dom snarled, "If you'd gone to have a piss it would have been your arse in their sights, not mine."

"Jesus, Dom, let's all just chill out, okay?" Elijah put a hand on Dom's shoulder, which he threw off, still glaring at Orlando. "What's up with you tonight anyway?"

"Nothing, man," Dom scrubbed a hand through his hair, Billy's hand lighting on his arm to still him, which he allowed just because it was Billy and he had better insight. "I've just had enough today, s'all."

The elevator dinged at their floor and Dom was the first out, getting all the way down the hall to their door before realizing he'd left his key inside. He could only hope Billy had the foresight to bring his.

"Hey, get some sleep at least. Feel better in the morning," Lij said when he caught up, opening his arms for a nearly pleading hug. Dom sighed and accepted, nodding.

"Dom, listen man..." Orlando shuffled up to him, his hands pocketed.

"Don't worry about it, Elf," Dom waved him off, "I'm a prick, we've established this."

"Right then," Orlando fistbumped and leaned over to peck him on the cheek while Billy opened their door.

.

Billy listened with interest as Dom's mood only grew uglier and more exasperated. He tossed a smile to Orlando and Elijah over his shoulder as he let him into the room. "Get some rest, lads."

"My bed'll be lonely without you," Orlando walked backwards, making elaborate kissy faces at Billy the whole way.

"C'mon, asshole." Elijah hauled him away by the back of his shirt.

Billy quickly shut the door behind him, moved the lock into place, and took a deep breath, turning. Dom had already discarded his shirt and was standing at the foot of his bed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Hey." Billy took a few careful steps forward, unfastening his watch and letting it pool in his palm. "Hate to drag all this shite out, but... we okay? You and I."

.

Dom rotated his arm and shoulder around, feeling a deep bruise forming on his shoulder blade from that corner he was shoved against. It would probably be colorful tomorrow. He sighed, resigned to his mood being a bit sour. Even he couldn't put his finger on why, aside from the fact that he'd dealt with a near plane crash and a near pummeling in the course of an afternoon.

"Yeah," he said, turning, "Why wouldn't we be?"

Billy looked rather cautious, which was odd, but then a few things tonight had been odd about him. Shoving his tongue down Orlando's throat being one of them. Billy knew better than anyone why Dom was out of sorts, why he may have been a bit sharp with Orlando, and yet he'd gone and snogged him, almost as if he'd wanted to bait Dom's temper more.

"Sorry, I'm just–" he shook his head, pulling his scarf through his fingers, unsure how to explain himself.

.

As Dom turned away from him, slipping the scarf elegantly off his shoulders, Billy caught sight of an angry red welt forming on his back. "'S alright," he muttered absently, feeling an irrational rage quickly welling up inside him. "Hey—" he approached, skittering fingertips across Dom's skin there. "You've got something here. Does this hurt?" He applied pressure. When Dom visibly flinched, Billy jerked his hand away. The idea that he could have done this, prompted that fuck to hurt Dom, albeit indirectly, just killed him.

Dom stepped aside, creating some distance between them so he could shuck his denims. Billy could feel the frustration coming off of him in waves.

"Picked the wrong place to win that kind of bet, didn't I?" He ghosted a palm over Dom's shoulder blade again. "Wish there was something I could do about this."

.

Dom stood still for a minute, trying concentrate on his breathing. But the second time Billy's fingers touched him, his mind flashed bright hot with the image of Billy kissing not Orlando, but him, his little perfect mouth soft and hot, his teeth sharp and his tongue wicked, even as his fingers tenderly brushed over his naked skin, the touch lingering. Lingering far longer than it should among mates, than it should with one of them standing there in nothing but kecks, far, far too long.

He turned his head to look at Billy, seeing a fierceness in him and something else in the set of his lips, closed yet lax, something that made Dom wonder, and it was all just too much for tonight. He exhaled and moved away, sitting on the bed to pull off his socks.

"'S alright, 's nothing," he rumbled, "I'm just tired."

.

"Okay," Billy said softly, lingering in front of him for a moment, not believing him at all. He finally turned, worked off his own jumper and moved into the loo to splash water on his face. It was still far too early for bed, but Billy'd felt beaten down by the day, and not so much by the plane ride or what'd happened in the pub just now.

Though Dom had certainly warmed to him since earlier this afternoon, he'd been the opposite of consistent. Billy tried cataloguing the moments when he'd gone all temperamental, taking particular note that they all seemed to revolve around Orlando. The fleeting idea that Dom's vitriol went beyond friendly jealousy occurred to him—but even Dom's friendly jealousy went beyond friendly at times. He was possessive by nature. And flirty. The combination was enough to confuse anyone, let alone his best mate.

Billy stood before the mirror, trying to quell his own frustrations, rapidly working their way up to the surface. It wouldn't do to have two moody people in a room together. He sighed, emerging, in no rush to take off his jeans, and went to his duffel for a t-shirt. "Wanna run lines for tomorrow?"

.

"Not really," he answered, rubbing his face. "They’ll just give us new pages in the morning."

He lay down flat on the bed, on top of the covers, stretched out and tried to pay attention to his breathing, tried to get back to a calm place again, but it eluded him. He knew Billy was only trying to make him feel better. In fact, Billy had done nearly everything in his power to do that, from fucking off when Dom wanted him to, bringing him food, laughing and joking, bloody rescuing him when he'd stepped into a mess, even touching him just now, wanting to take a small hurt away. And Dom had been a right prick to everyone most of the night, including Billy. This least he should do is explain himself.

He stared up at the ceiling, noting a little crack in it from the age of this hotel, listening to the patter of rain on the window again, though not quite as strong as it had been.

"Bills," he started, picking at the bedspread beneath him and not looking at his mate. "Aren't you afraid of dying?"

He paused, glancing over at the way Billy froze in place with a t-shirt in hand, listening to him so intently, and plunged on. "I used to wake up in the night as a kid and just be so scared I'd cry, and Mum would come in and she'd cry because there was no way for her to take the fear away."

He picked at his fingernails, nervous for some reason. "I'm not afraid it will hurt, or anything, I'm just afraid of... ending." He gave the start of a laugh, though he was perfectly serious. "I like my life. I feel like I have so much to do."

.

Billy got a sudden flash of the months following the death of his parents, a split-second montage of all the years of figuring it out while trying to become a man, without the help of the kind of therapy afforded to more fortunate kids. He pulled his shirt over his head and turned to Dom with a smile, glad that he was talking again. "You do." He was sure of that; no one could spark as much as Dom without igniting something in his path.

"Of course I'm afraid. I think everyone is. I think it's weird to not be, you know?" He scrubbed a hand through his hair and took a seat at the foot of his bed, facing Dom. There was no way to make Dom feel better about this, he knew from experience. "It happens to all of us, and we can't control when or why. That's why we need to appreciate every day that we have and try to make the best of it." He smirked, thinking of his own predilection toward laziness. "Easier said than done for some of us." His eyes softened as he took in Dom's still not at all comforted expression. "You're here now. And you're okay. I think we all have it on good authority that this little film we're doing is going to be a pretty big deal—definitely one of the most important things we all do, maybe the most important. So take the time to be appreciative and enjoy it. If nothing else, it brought us to the other side of the world, and I never thought I'd be here."

Dom nodded, a faint smile ghosting across his face.

Billy looked at him, his chest flooding with something ineffable. "This is only the beginning for you. I'm pretty sure of that. You're going to do incredible things, and I'm going to ride on your coattails the whole way like a moochy bastard. You'll have to die just to get rid of me."

.

Dom watched the nuances of Billy's expressions during this little speech, the open set of his shoulders, the loose clutch of his fingers between his knees, the almost sad tilt of his eyes, the lines there that, up close, betrayed his age and experience. If Billy was nothing else, he was honest, and that was something Dom valued above most other things in a friend. It was so strange to think they'd only met just a couple of months ago. It felt like they'd known each other much longer. Even if he took nothing else from this film, he had that, he'd met a fascinating person who lived with a simple take it as it comes and move mountains if you must approach to his life.

He rose up on an elbow to put a hand out over the gap between the beds, as if shaking on it would set this friendship in stone and keep it going, keep Billy in his life beyond the end of this project as Billy's words at the very least implied. "I'm really glad I met you."

.

Billy broke into a laugh at the sight of Dom's extended hand. Finally, he grabbed it with his own and pulled him up off the mattress and into an awkward hug, demanding, "C'mere." With the perfect bit of alcohol coursing through them, they breathed heavily, warm and comfortable, though Dom probably hadn't quite left his previous anxieties behind just yet.

Billy rubbed a hand up and down the center of Dom's back, overcome himself. He'd never loved a friend so quickly before. "You're a bit high maintenance, aren't you?" he said affectionately.

.

Dom laughed as Billy half-shook, half-pulled him off the bed in a heap, only to gather him up in an embrace. He hugged him back, feeling silly for having gone all cerebral. 

"Bugger off, I'm not either high maintenance," he chuckled, squeezing Billy tightly, "I'm complicated. And a prat."

He took a deep breath, one full of Billy's smell with his chin tucked over his shoulder, taking in the comfort of his hands smoothing over his back, carefully avoiding the lump. He wondered about Billy, if he had just been showing off tonight or if he really might be into blokes. 

But no. He let go, clapping Billy hard on the arm before he sat back on his own bed. "Are there any more pastries? I saw your cream puff girl down there, in the pub."

.

Billy gave him a smirk, wondering if he'd rib him for not inviting her up. He walked to the dresser and pushed the mess of cartons and bags aside, searching. "I think so." It only took a moment for him to extract the box of sweets and bring it over to share between them, in the space between their beds. "Shame I had to go and kiss Orlando. I think it might have prevented me from getting laid," he laughed, pulling an éclair apart.

.

Dom plucked out the last cream puff and bit into it, eying Billy speculatively. There were so many things he could say to that, so many ways he could turn it, but ultimately, he didn't want to bring it around to his own rather inappropriate jealousy. Not that Billy couldn't handle inappropriate, it was them for Christ's sake, but Dom had learned (or been reintroduced to, rather) two things tonight: that he couldn't assume Billy didn't have quirks of his own, and he couldn't assume the rest of the world was okay with quirks.

He lay back against the pillows again. "She was cute," thumbing some of the vanilla cream off his chin back into his mouth and shrugged, looking cheeky, "But then you wouldn't have me for such great company."

.

"I'd've made you stay and watch," Billy shot back, something stirring as he watched Dom lick at his own fingers. "She was cute, though." He flopped onto his back, bringing the carton with him to rest on his stomach. As cute as she was, though, Billy was perfectly content to be sharing pastries with Dom instead of chatting her up downstairs. Maybe it was a side effect of getting older; he just wasn't as willing to spend time and effort on people he didn't already know or care about.

He shoved the rest of the éclair in his mouth, talking through it. "She had a friend, too. Looked like your type."

.

"Yeah?" Dom asked, feigning interest. Another day he might be up for going back downstairs, but tonight he was done. But the idea of watching Billy with a girl stuck in his head. He couldn't help it, he had a little voyeuristic streak in him. Chalk it up to the profession, he couldn't not watch people, wanting to see what made them tick. That included watching them flirt, pull and fuck, which was always interesting too. Probably why amateur porn was more entertaining, the people in it were typically couples already, and had more chemistry.

He finished his sweet and yawned, reaching forward to grab his toes, feeling it stretch out the back of his thighs. He breathed in deeply and then out, letting it pull him farther down to fold in half. It wasn't ideal to stretch this way, but it felt good, and he let out a happy grumble.

.

Watching Dom fold in half like that made that little stir from before grow and multiply, made Billy hot under his pants. "Yeah," he sighed, watching Dom's forearms flex and his back go impossibly long. "Blonde. Girly. Daft-looking." Billy knew there was much more variety to Dom's taste, but he liked to pretend to underestimate him. He squirmed against the mattress and adjusted his crotch with one hand, certain that Dom couldn't see with his face nearly between his own knees. "Christ, you're limber."

.

"Mmmm," he rumbled, "You should try it." He came back up, pulling his knees out and the soles of his feet together and dropped forward across them, stretching the insides of his thighs this time. "I couldn't do this when I started. Yoga lessons, I mean. You get more bendy the more you do it."

Billy said nothing, and when he sat back up again, looking at him sidelong, he grinned with the idea that sprang to mind. "You want to try it? Right now?"

.

Billy froze. "You realize I'm an old bastard, right? I mean, relatively speaking." Dom only looked at him with a sweet, almost innocent expectation. "Alright. I'll try anything," Billy shimmied up to a sitting position, "But you break it, you bought it."

He pulled his legs in, mimicking Dom's pose with more than a bit of irony. "So what do you want to teach me? Sneezing Dog or Drunken Turtle, or...?"

.

Dom smirked, wriggling about so he was facing Bill on the bed, "Yoga is more than just stretching and twisting yourself in weird positions, Grasshopper. It's about being aware of yourself. Like this," He brought his legs into an easy crossed position that he knew Billy could do. "Straighten your back. Sit on your arse bones and push up from there, all the way up your spine to your head. And set your shoulders back."

He smiled as Billy did what he asked, watching his chest expand beneath his shirt, "It made you breath in nice and slow, didn't it?"

Dom set the backs of his wrists on his knees, palms up and open, thumbs touching his middle fingers, Billy copying the move with a smirk of his own. "Now just close your eyes and breathe through it. Just feel how alive you are."

He watched for a moment while Billy closed his eyes, breathed and started to relax. Then he closed his own.

.

This whole learning session was another surprise from Dom; Billy'd never heard him talk about something so passionately. Actually, he'd rarely heard anyone talk about something so passionately. It was like Dom was trying to absorb Billy into his own body so he could truly understand how much he cared about this. 

Ordinarily, he would've broken their collective silence with, So have you gotten 'round to sucking your own cock yet?, but he wanted to treat it with the same reverence Dom seemed to. He wanted to impress him.

Just holding this simple position reminded Billy of how terrible he'd been about taking care of himself on this shoot thus far. It was never exactly easy to fit a run into a fifteen-hour day, but he should have at least been stretching during breaks in shooting. He felt his back protest this proper posture; it had gotten so used to being tensed up in preparation, fabricated emotion, and more rarely, anxiety.

.

Dom opened his eyes, holding his position and just watching Billy. He sat up straight, not prone to the hunching after a while, the way some people reverted when they weren't paying attention to their bodies. But it was the way his facial features had settled that made Dom smile. Billy's eyes were closed and his jaw relaxed, his lips parted. The minute pinch between his brows was gone. He looked the way he did when he fell asleep on set, as he often did, propped in a chair or against a tree. He looked childlike.

He breathed an amused huff that made Billy open his eyes as well. Dom brought his palms together at his nose, as if in prayer, then pulled them down to his chest, elbows out, "Namaste."

Billy chuckled, copying.

"You know what it means?" Dom asked, his voice calm and low. When Billy shook his head no, he smiled. "Namaste is just the word, really, the gesture is called something else. But it's a greeting, or an acknowledgement, rather. And there are a bunch of translations for it. Let me see if I can remember it right..." He paused, closing his eyes to search his mind for the full phrase before making the gesture again, "I honor the place in you in which the entire Universe dwells, I honor the place in you which is of love, of integrity, of wisdom and of peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are one. That's the long and sort of cheesy version. Mostly it's just The spirit in me honors and adores the spirit in you."

.

Billy wasn't sure if it was the actual motions that were making him so relaxed, so silent, or if it was watching Dom do them. His translation sounded like nothing more than a recitation, but the words hung in the air between them, attaching themselves to a more particular significance. 

"Show me something hard," Billy insisted, inspired, before realizing what that sounded like. He preempted Dom: "Mind out of the gutter. Give me a challenge. Let me try something I probably can't do." He kept his current pose, palms together in a mimicry of prayer, a gesture he hadn't made in many years.

.

Dom arched a brow at that little comment, but tilted his head in thought for a moment before sliding off the bed and going to its foot where he'd done his routine before, picking up and tossing the stupid little area rug into the corner completely.

"Alright. I can't do many of the really crazy ones, since I only got to a sort of intermediate level. But I'll show you all the Virabhadrasanas," he said, glad he'd already stretched a bit. He saw Billy's perplexed look at the word and explained, "The Warriors. Not like the film, by the way."

Standing still for a moment in Mountain to prepare, he took wide step out with his left foot, bending all the way at the knee until that leg was a right angle, the other extended diagonally behind. He breathed out, feeling it stretch and extended both arms out on a shoulder level plane, looking out across them at the rain spattered window and the city beyond. Proud Warrior was a favorite of his, as he could feel the stretch and burn of it in his legs and abs and shoulders. He held it for much less time than usual, only about six breaths, before bringing his arms together in the skyward point of Exalted Warrior. He held this for six breaths, and then arched carefully back, keeping his left arm up to complete the arch while his right hand reached back to grab his extended calf in Peaceful Warrior. His legs were burning now, and his abdominals worked hard to keep his breathing slow, but he held it, forced himself to hold for ten breaths before coming back up.

"You can probably do the first and second ones," he said, turning to Billy, his breathing slow but heavy, one hand massaging his overtaxed stomach muscles, "They're harder than they look, though."

.

"Warriors, come out and pla-ay," Billy sung under his breath as he prepared himself to get into the first position. "Show me the first again?" He did need to see it again, but there was the added bonus of seeing Dom strike the pose—he was so elegant.

Dom obliged, taking each part of it slowly again so Billy could follow: first each leg, then the arms. Billy tightened his abs, moving into the position with controlled breaths. When he was satisfied, he moved seamlessly into the second, Dom nodding in approval and doing the same. "Third?" he asked, not so he could follow but so he could see Dom stretched long and lean again from the tip of his middle finger to his big toe. Billy fell out of pose as he watched. "'S a bit like ballet, isn't it? You should've been a dancer, Dom. You have the body for it."

.

Dom laughed out loud at that, "Me? Come on man, you know I have the rhythm of a three legged fish."

He shifted in the opposite direction to stretch both sides of his body evenly, facing Billy this time. "What about you and your Jeet Kun Do? You say you don't do it anymore, but I'd guess its a bit like riding a bike, right? It'd be cool to see you go all Bruce Lee on someone. Or just do forms or something."

He stretched through Peaceful Warrior again, pondering Billy's eyes on his body, feeling them still watching, and noticing it enough to make such an assumption. Christ, this was a weird day.

.

Billy vaguely registered Dom goading him about his meager martial arts training, but he was still stuck on the idea of Dom as a dancer. He'd seen him in the pubs, enough to know that he was selling himself short. Maybe he couldn't exactly keep the beat, but watching him, you'd almost forget; his hips found their own rhythm, and you'd believe it was in the song somewhere, even if you couldn't hear it.

"Well, it's more about reacting than kicking the crap out of someone." He looked Dom over as he bent an arm behind his head, pulling at the tricep muscle there. "And when you're really good at it, you actually look kind of spastic doing it." Billy hesitated, wondering if his body would remember the motions. He got into position for a simple series of kicks. "My instructor looked like he had bees flying around in his pants when he was doing it." He turned to Dom. "You mind being my attacker?"

Dom immediately stepped in front of him with a smile. 

"Okay." Billy readied himself. "Just stay there. I won't make contact with you or anything. I might not be able to do all the kicks..." He leaned on his back foot and balanced himself there before executing the first two mimed kicks quickly: one to Dom's shin and one to Dom's knee. He readied himself again, took a breath, then delivered the next three, progressing up the side of Dom's body. "Don't think I can reach your head, not anymore," he breathed. He duck into a crouch, stretching out his thighs and quads. "I'll be feeling that tomorrow."

.

Dom stood there through Billy's demonstration, ready to block if Billy happened to miss, but even as Billy degraded his skills, he was perfectly able to mock his blows and keep them in check. In fight training, Dom remembered how Bob consistently had to tell Billy not to look so damn proficient with a weapon all the time, he wasn't meant to be good at it. 

He grinned at Billy feeling his stretch. "You should come to a yoga class with me, really. It helps."

Puttering around the room, he finally found the minibar. "Ah hah!" he said, pulling out a bottle of Jameson. Billy would scrunch his nose at Irish whiskey, but it was still whiskey, and Dom wasn't about to try going back down to the pub tonight.

"One good thing about this job," he grinned, sitting back down on his bed and taking a swig from the bottle before holding it out to Billy, "The company foots the bill."

.

Billy laughed and took a generous swig. "Let's see you be a Warrior after one of these." He shuffled over to Dom's bed and flopped rather ungracefully down onto the mattress, legs dangling off the edge, nearly reaching the floor. Dom immediately lounged on his side next to him, leaning over to grab for the little bottle. Billy shifted away, holding it ransom high above his head near the bed's headboard, teasing, "Come and get it."

.

Dom grinned wickedly, sat up and dug his fingers into Billy's exposed armpit. He squealed and dropped the bottle on the pillows, but Dom kept at it, dodging Billy's flailing arms and getting a knee to his side for his trouble. He considered straddling him, holding him down and really letting him have it, but that kiss swam in his head, round and round, the way Billy shoved Orlando against the darkstained wood, the stunned way Orlando had gone completely lax beneath him. But no. No.

Dom let go, crawling up to claim the bottle and his victory, chuckling to himself at Billy's hands clutching his stomach muscles from laughing so hard. He leaned against the pillows with a grin, Billy's head between his feet, and twisted off the top. "Good thing you capped it, Pip, or I'd have to sleep in your bed with you."

.

"Please, no, I already have a fantastic view of your testicles," Billy breathed, craning his neck minutely and nodding to Dom's crotch straight ahead. 

Between the yoga and the kicking and the tickling, he was feeling sore and used. He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn in his stomach muscles, and looked at Dom's face, glowing and mischievous. He sat up. "I love you, you know. You're pretty great." He poked Dom's side with a socked toe. "And I'm really glad I met you, too, in case I didn't say it earlier." He examined the label on the bottle, pulling at its edges with his efficient fingers. "I'm happy we're in this together."

Billy took a breath again and flushed, suddenly a bit nervous. Dom's bed was probably the last place he should be confiding such things.

.

"See, I knew you'd be proposing sooner or later," Dom grinned, looking smugly back at him, "I'm irresistible like that."

At the end of the day, he felt good, happy, and in great company. Billy was a good man and a great mate, he'd proven it over and over again in just a couple of months. He grabbed the bottle back before Billy murdered the label, and tilted it to him in a toast. "There's no one else I'd rather die in a fiery plane crash next to," he said, and drank deeply, before handing it to Billy to finish off.

"Want to see what they have on late night telly?"

.

"Yeah," Billy piped up before executing a clumsy flip off the bed toward the minibar. He nearly cleared the liquor shelf, tossing half the bottles to Dom and keeping the other half (the better half, to be fair) for himself. Before Dom could grab the remote off the nightstand, he swiped it, holding it to his chest a la Gollum. "Ten quid says I can find the soft core porn faster than you."

Billy propped his pillows up against the headboard, lined his bottles up next to him, and settled in. Now that the tumultuous afternoon was finally behind them, they could relax and hopefully get some rest for tomorrow's shoot.


	6. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November, Queenstown ~ 1999

The rush of his own heavy breath and the crunch of twigs were exhilarating to his ears. Billy's footing was already not what it should've been, made careless with "enough alcohol to kill a small horse, shit" (Elijah's words). Leaves and probably bugs and things twisted, broke, and burst under his slippery shoes, propelling him into the kind of half-stumble half-flight usually featured in his better dreams. 

It was a joyful madness, all of it, the thick night air, the whiskey burn on his breath, the foliage tickling his face, and the promise of months and months of more. 

The best part of all, though, was the company. He felt surrounded on all sides by his new friends: Elijah seemingly miles ahead, his giggle rising above the crickets; Orlando lagging several yards behind with happy sighs, unintelligible murmurs, and footing much worse than any of them; and Dom just an arm's length ahead, pummeling through the night with a quiet determination.

Billy slowed and stopped when there was a particularly wide opening between the treetops, to admire the clusters of stars showing through there. When he'd had his fill, he dropped his eyes back to the wood and discovered that Dom was nowhere to be found. He gave a preemptive flinch, readying himself for an unwanted surprise or bit of mischief.

Before Billy could shout out to him, the tree beside him started to shake. His head snapped back up, and an incredulous laugh tore through his throat. Dom was scrambling up the trunk like a monkey—and making impressive progress already. Billy let his head tilt all the way back. "You mad fucking bastard! What're you doing?!"

.

Dom flashed a glance back to see how close behind Billy trailed, then paused, quiet at the base of a young Kauri to look his fill. Billy stood on an oddly circular patch of grass with his face tilted to the sky, mouth open in awe or pissed lackadaisy. His arms hung open-palmed at his sides before rising to cradle the back of his head at the wonder of this place. 

All around were the sounds of wetas buzzing, little flightless night birds scratching in the underbrush, the ringing laughter of Elijah meshing and looping with Orlando's singsong calls. Only Viggo couldn't be heard, the silent Ranger melting into the underbrush with that sword he'd been married to since the weapons tech handed it to him. Dom didn't quite have him figured yet, but then he'd only been here a few weeks.

'Course, he didn't have Billy figured yet either.

Tingling with rum and mischief, he gathered himself and jumped high for the lowest branch, and kicked the heel of his trainer up to haul himself up, already nine or ten feet off the ground before Billy stumbled round to notice.

"Got yourself caught in a fairy ring, Bills?"

.

Billy's face felt like it would break from the stretch of his smile. He glanced back at Orlando, finally catching up to him now, and thought of Elijah up ahead. "I know they're a bit poncy, but you shouldn't insult them like that!" he yelled up at Dom.

He saw Dom pause to heave with laughter, clinging the branches tighter.

"Oh Christ, don't fall," Billy laughed to himself, a bit nervous now. "Be careful there, will you?!" He had half a mind to go up there after him, but then, watching Dom's spry figure blur and split in two, thought better of it.

A tiny part of him imagined impending disaster, Dom losing his footing and spiraling through the air and to the ground, cracking his head open, bleeding out all over the greenery. He pressed his hands to his eyes and shook his head to get the vision out of there. 

Billy had faith; he already believed in Dom to a fault, even in his foolishness.

.

"Not an insult at all," Dom called down at them. Orlando tripped over his own feet before he wrapped himself happily around Billy's shoulders like a limpet, murmuring to himself. Dom grinned at the pair of them, "Hexenringe. It's where the elves dance. 'F you step into a fairy ring, you can see them, and look."

Feeling sugary and juvenile, he turned and hooked his knees round a good sturdy branch and then let himself go backwards, hanging upside down from it, his t-shirt sliding to his armpits, the balmy air kissing his skin, as he winked at Billy upside down. "You've caught yourself an elf."

.

Something stupid inside Billy stirred at the way Dom's tongue caressed the German, completely foreign to his ears, and he gripped Orlando's forearms for purchase. "Looks like it," he murmured absently.

Between that look Dom was giving him from above and the ethereally pretty Orlando wrapped all warm and disjointed around him, the magic of the moment was upped tenfold.

"Her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright, that birds would sing and think it were not night!" Orlando shouted up to Dom, beckoning with an outstretched hand, rocking Billy with the other.

Billy laughed incredulously, turning to nudge Orlando's face with his own. "Shakespeare?" He looked back up to Dom and scrunched his nose. "He's smarter than he looks," he confided in a stage whisper.

"And you're stronger than you look..." A playful intrigue crept into Orlando's voice as he gave Billy's biceps a squeeze. "You've got great big arms. Billy has great big arms, Dom!"

.

"Ay, me." Dom sighed to himself. He'd noticed Billy's great big arms some time ago, around the same time he'd noticed those fine wrists and neat hands. He gripped the branch with his own, let his knees unhook and flipped down to the ground, the drop considerably farther than his pissed mind estimated, and his ankle came down wrong.

"Refuse thy name and deny thy father, sworn by wilting love or some other shite to that effect," he swaggered back over toward them, a sly smirk on his face. "What fools these mortals be. I might have it wrong. Maybe Orli caught himself a fairy."

A trilling, not-quite-bird whistle came out of the forest to their right, turning their attention to a little pinprick of light. It bounced around the dark ferns like a will o' the wisp, a dancing yellow flame – a knuckle muffled giggle – a lighter. Elijah.

"'S fucking trippy, man," slurred Orlando, unraveling himself from Billy and stumbled after it.

"'The fuck was in that tea Vig brought, do you think?" Dom laughed, as Billy's eyes rolled skyward and went after him, "I'm kinda glad I didn't drink any."

He hung back a second, giving his aching foot a bit of a turn to try to crack his ankle back in the right place, and plunged after them.

.

"Dunno. Something foreign and illegal in whatever country it's from, I'm sure." Billy took a giant step over a log, feeling his accent getting thicker by the minute.

Only a few months before, he'd been going through all sorts of age-related existential crises. On the plane with Orli, sharing their little bottle of champagne, there'd been so much to celebrate, so much to look forward to, but there'd also been so much to lament leaving behind. It was still a high, but a pensive, tentative one. But tonight, all that seemed to be going straight out the window. Running through the woods with these children—not just in age but in spirit—Billy felt more in character than he felt in front of the camera the day before.

He turned back to Dom, hoping to find more of that childlike excitement there. Dom didn't disappoint, eyes bright as ever, and another of his ridiculous graphic tees still horribly askew and rucked up from his dismount. Billy stopped to smooth it down for him, then reeled him in by the neck so they could walk hip to hip. "D'you suppose he knows Orlando's madly in love with him?"

.

"Who?" Dom asked, watching Orlando weave in and out between the trees, a dancerlike grace to him even bloitered, the lightweight, "Vig? Or Elijah? I think he's in love with everyone here."

Dom might have been protecting a teeny bit, but then he'd be lying if he wasn't slightly in love with everybody on this shoot. Even Astin, although that was mostly the residual Goonies affiliation. Astin, of course, had stayed home with the wife and kid rather than come out on this impromptu camping trip, claiming camping could not simply be impromptu, it required itineraries and fretting and at least a week, not a night long.

Elijah was a cheeky little fuck Dom could not help but admire just from the way he'd not fallen into the Hollywood baby aristocracy, and the fact that he met Dom on music perfectly. His lighter flame still jumped and waved with his maniacal giggle for Orlando to follow. Orlando, who was ridiculously fucking gorgeous and happy and enthusiastic, even if he had shades of diva to him already. And Billy...

Billy. Whose hand was warm on his nape, who was every inch the down-to-earth everyman, only not. He was unique. And lately he had Dom thinking.

Then there was Viggo, the new guy. Well, the newest guy, anyway. Elijah's flame led them to another, larger clearing, where Viggo crouched lighting a campfire like it was something he did everyday.

They gathered around as the fire took, and Viggo started pulling things out of his rucksack. "So. We have steak slices. We have fruit. We have extra veggies," he nodded to Orlando. "We have booze. And we have marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers, which by the way, I had to make from scratch, since they don't seem to have them down here. So, tonight, we eat. We drink–" Elijah gave a whoop, "We speak. And at the end of it all, we shit in the woods and sleep under the stars and wake in the morning: new. So," he tossed a (closed) swiss army knife at Elijah, who was beaming with gap-toothed glee, "Sharpen yourselves a stick. It's kebabs."

.

Predictably, Dom went straight for the sweets, and Billy straight for the bottle of Jack Daniels, fishing it out from under a small stock of booze Viggo'd provided. He cracked the cap's seal, twisted it open, and drank straight from the mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Viggo. "I didn't know you could make graham crackers from scratch."

"Very simple, Hobbit," Viggo insisted, cutting up fruits and veggies like a pro. "You'd be surprised."

Billy took a sideways glance at Dom's funny little kebab, jagged and loaded up with marshmallows, crackers, and chocolate—and poking precariously close to Billy's face. He bit a smile back, getting an idea. He addressed Viggo seriously: "How d'you make them? What are the ingredients?"

While Dom was busy reaching for more marshmallows, and Viggo was busy rattling off "everyday household items: flour, baking soda, milk, butter, honey, brown sugar," Billy was busy plucking the sweets from Dom's stick and popping them in his mouth, one by one. As Dom kept loading his kebab blindly, he didn't notice that it wasn't getting any fuller. It was a cartoonish prank, and one that Billy couldn't wait to see come to a head.

Elijah, sitting across the way, noticed Billy's puffed out cheeks and clamped a hand over his mouth, trying his best to be an accomplice in the charade.

.

Rum buzzed and wanting more sugar, Dom smacked Orlando's hand from the bag of marshmallows he'd claimed for himself, shaking his head at him. Grabbing three more, he went back to his kebab, paused and frowned at it.

Elijah burst out laughing.

Dom glanced from him to Billy, his cheeks packed like a chipmunk, though his rounded eyebrows convinced innocence. "Oi! Thieving little cunt!

Launching at him by the fire, Dom knocked him back, pinning his arms and sitting on his chest, and half the gooey, chocolately mess spewed out, Billy at least turning his head to the side.

"Shite, manky bastard," Dom crinkled his nose and let him up, chuckling, "Waste of perfectly good junk food. Think of the kiwis. They'll get all that marshmallow you spit out stuck in their little beaks and starve. New Zealand will convict you of kiwi murder."

.

Billy wiped at his mouth messily, more than pleased that he'd gotten the exact reaction he'd been looking for. "Sorry," he choked, still beside himself in his prank afterglow. "The look on your face..." 

Dom mock-scowled at him and immediately started reloading his kebab.

Billy reached for his beloved bottle of Jack and scooched closer to him, patented Pippin pout firmly in place. He offered Dom a swig by the neck. When Dom resolutely ignored him, he propped his chin on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his middle, bringing the bottle closer and closer to his mouth. He let out a soft laugh, seeing the corners of Dom's mouth break as he accepted the drink. "That's a good lad."

He was in no hurry to break this contact, perfectly content in front of the fire, Dom's body heat providing an extra warmth. He looked across the way at Elijah again, still utterly taken with his and Dom's antics, as always. He wiped at his mouth—"Do I have white stuff all over my face?"—filthy innuendo completely intentional.

.

Dom dropped his eyes to Billy's mouth, inches away and rimmed white powdered sugar. With Billy cuddled so readily into his side and the smoky taste of whiskey on his lips, his mind flashed immediately back to that night last week at the pub when a bet had been taken and then Billy was snogging Orlando like his life depended on it. Dom lost ten quid. Yeah, he'd been thinking a lot lately about Billy. 

He grinned and said nothing, but let his tongue creep out and waggled it suggestively. Billy's eyes darted to it and flashed with something that took him by surprise.

Abruptly, Orlando let out a yelp that progressed to a full blown spazz that drew every ones attention. "Bloody fucking spider get it off, getitoff!"

"Don't hurt it!" Dom jumped over and held Orli down so he could scoop the spider up before it freaked out and bit him. He cupped it in his palm, nothing more than a decent sized White-tail. "You big nancy. He's more scared of you, you know."

.

Billy felt silly with his arms dangling in the air, now empty, save for the bottle in one hand and Dom's kebab in the other. Though he supposed it was a good thing Dom separated from him when he did; the sight of that wickedly expressive tongue peeking out, almost beckoning, really—he might've been liable to do something really risky, and not for money, either.

He watched Dom deposit the spider onto a tree trunk a few yards away and smiled. His partner in crime was just full of surprises. It'd only been the week before that Billy'd learned of his love affair with bugs (Insects, Dom had corrected with a vehemence that made Billy cackle). During a lull in filming (much more common than actual filming, they were all learning), Billy'd rolled up the bottoms of his Pippin pants to feel the scratch of the grass and ended up feeling the scratch of something else. He'd gasped, going frozen at the sight of a weta, an intense-looking fucker, crawling up his leg. Dom, working his mouth around an apple beside him, had simply reached over and wrapped his fingers around Billy's calf, and let the creature creep its way seamlessly from Billy's skin to his.

Viggo's voice was a quiet rumble, buzzing its way through Billy's memory. "Alright, settle down, boys. It's time for a man's game. An exercise, rather." He loaded his own kebab up with steak and peppers. "Bill, hand me that bottle of Jack."

.

"Fuzzy Duck!" Elijah crowed. "Right? Shit–" his kebab was on fire, steak juice dripping and making the fire sizzle.

"Wait a minute, how are we meant to sleep outside when there are spiders the size of mice around here?" Orlando said, having swept any vegetation away from the space where he sat, poking the handle end of his kebab at a nearby set of ferns. "We don't even have a tent or anything."

Viggo simply pulled another set of small packages from his rucksack and tossed one to each of them, each being a net hammock to string between trees. "We are doing an exercise in manly aptitude here, now pay attention–"

"Male bonding," Dom nodded smartly as he limped back to the campfire, snugging back up against Billy's side. He wrested the bottle of whiskey from fingers that did not appear willing to give it up and capped it, tossing it over to Vig. "Is it Spin The Bottle, then?" he waggled his eyebrows mischievously, wondering if that dark look would come round again, "Wanna bond, Bill?"

.

"Lonely, Dom? I thought you'd have brought a pile of porn to help you get through tonight." Despite Billy's words, his tone was anything but biting, as was evidenced by Dom looking back at him as if he'd just said "Come snog me" instead.

"There's only four hammocks here," Orlando piped up, looking around their circle.

Billy let his hand crawl up into the hair at Dom's nape. "This part of the exercise, Vig? We going to fight each other for who gets their own?"

"No," Viggo smiled. He pulled his kebab from the fire and took a bite of the meat, blood red on the inside, just the way he liked it. "We're going to play a game that I'm sure you're all familiar with: Never Have I Ever. Everyone admits to something they've never done, and those of us who have done it take a drink. But tonight that's not the case. Tonight, there's a caveat: after you make your admission, if the thing you've never done is something you can accomplish tonight, you'll have the opportunity to prove yourself and do it. And only when you've done it will you get to drink. And that goes for everyone." He pointed at Billy. "Not a drop more until we're all better men."

Billy wordlessly raised his unoccupied hand in surrender.

"What if we help someone do something they've never done?" Elijah asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Then you drink double." Viggo raised an eyebrow.

.

Elijah cackled, Viggo leered, and Orlando's eyebrows were pinching together in a way that had to come from that weird tea of Viggo's he'd downed before they trekked up here. He clutched the plastic packet that held his hammock, eyes darting side to side, and murmured worriedly, "Someone's gonna have to kip on the ground."

Dom eyed Viggo's meaty kebab, hungry now for more than just marshmallows. Between the rum before they'd come up and the hike and this, he was going to need sustenance to keep his frame of mind, and Billy's exceptional little fingers weren't helping any, scritching up through the hair on the back of his scalp and making it prickle in pleasure. He nearly purred, minutely arching back into it, unwilling to move in order to build himself a new kebab. Billy would notice, and somehow that sent a flutter through him.

Four hammocks, three hobbits, a man and a paranoid delusional elf. With the fire hot before him, Billy pressed warmly against his side and the night air balmy and rich with the smell of earth and trees, Dom knew somehow, that he and Billy would get stuck in one hammock. Probably squashed together, in that hammocky sort of way, closer than they were now.

"Well, that's Orli cut off," Dom quipped, "I dunno what you gave him Vig, but I think he's lost whatever death wish he ordinarily has. And it wasn't the size of a mouse, it was a bitty little thing. As Kiwi spiders go, anyway."

Orlando's eyes skittered across the ground around them.

Elijah, however, was looking positively puckish, enhanced by the firelight, "Did we bring enough alcohol for this?"

.

Viggo made a grand sweeping gesture to his stash, arranged spectacularly before the fire. "If it's not enough, we can take Billy's blood."

Billy smiled appreciatively; he liked Viggo. Beside him, Dom's stomach growled—he both heard it and felt it buzzing against his thigh. He fingered his hair affectionately. "I think Dom wants to go first. Orli, pass me some stuff."

Orlando obliged, passing as many fruits and veggies as he could spare, and then, begrudgingly (and very cautiously), a few pieces of meat. After Billy grabbed at them with greedy hands, he wiped the remaining residue off on his jeans, nose scrunched up. Billy and Dom shared an amused look.

Billy let Dom continue cuddling up to him, though it made the task of putting a kebab together much more difficult. The scent of Viggo's meat on the fire had him suddenly feeling voracious too.

"I'm afraid it's the youngest who must go first," Viggo announced, turning to Elijah. "Ringbearer."

Elijah pulled his knees to his chest and smiled thoughtfully. "Um... Never have I ever taken a shit in the woods?"

They all heartily booed him, Dom reaching over Billy to grab a bit of onion to throw at his head.

Elijah ducked for cover. "Okay, okay! Shit," he laughed, falling back into thinking mode.

Billy held the kebab out to Dom, quietly explaining, "'S yours."

"Never have I ever..." Elijah continued. "...played the guitar." He leveled a playful look at Billy.

.

"Safe," Dom shook his head dryly. "This is a drinking game, boy, and a character building one, designed specifically to boost one's Y-chromosome. One would think you'd ask for a little more."

Dom accepted his (Billy's) stick, rather touched that Billy had not only built him a kebab, but had left off the broccoli florets that Orlando was hogging the majority of. Dom couldn't remember where in the last few months' conversations he might have mentioned that particular dislike, but somehow, Billy had remembered it.

His head buzzed and sparked with the alcohol he'd already consumed as he planted the end of his kebab in the dirt, the meat and veg propped over the flames to roast. He shifted to lean onto Billy further, though it made Billy's task of building his own kebab more difficult.

Dom understood now, probably more than the rest, how and why Viggo had led them all out into the wild like this. Only months ago, he'd arrived here weeks late, Lij, Sean, Billy and Orli already more or less comfortable around each other, formalities out of the way. He'd felt like he'd gatecrashed a party, feeling a little stupid with a freshly sheared head and several off-color jokes making his entrance, and yet, Billy more than the rest had taken him in. For that he was absurdly grateful, that the one person he'd spend most of the next year with was the most intuitive. Dom liked him a bit too much already.

"Fuck you, I haven't ever played guitar," Elijah fired off, grinning, "Besides, I dunno that I need any of your help to shit in the woods."

.

"I believe I can earn some teaching points now," Billy grinned, loading up his kebab with a renewed haste. He fondly recalled the previous week when he'd first brandished his guitar for the lot of them, the twitch of Elijah's fingers and the covetous look on his face.

Orlando reclined into prime Playgirl centerfold position, propped up by the arm and all, The Spider Incident already forgotten in his pissed stupor. "You brought your guitar? I didn't see it!" He sounded almost accusing, like a little brother.

"My guitar is in my hand," Billy explained sagely.

"You're gonna teach me how to play Dom?" Elijah rocked back and forth in anticipation.

Dom lifted wide eyes to Billy.

"No," he laughed, a stubborn little nerve jumping around in his stomach. "That's a skill that I'm sure takes years and years of practice to learn." The others laughed, and he moved his hand down to Dom's shoulder to give him a rub there. "I'm going to teach you with this," he indicated his kebab. "It's not great, but it's big enough."

"That's what she said," Elijah sighed.

Billy looked to Viggo. "Are all Americans this vulgar? My God."

Kebab sufficiently full, Billy reluctantly unraveled himself from Dom and rose, dusting himself off. He shuffled over to Elijah, handed him his uncooked dinner, and knelt behind him, hoping to make this quick; he was quite fucking hungry now. "This isn't the whole guitar; just pretend it's the neck." He shifted Elijah's hands into the right positions, the left fingering some steak and red pepper, the right dangling in the air by his thigh, and craned his own neck over Elijah's shoulder to guide him through his first note. 

"This is kind of turning me on, Bill," Elijah smirked.

"Shut it."

.

"You're gonna let him finger your meat?" Dom threw the pair of them a devilish grin, "Bills, you have no idea where those have been. He spent ten minutes in the loo before we left."

"Let's just say I won't be shitting in the woods, then," Elijah said hotly.

"I'm just sayin', man, there's got to be some sort of cross-contamination going on," Dom shook his head, plucking his own kebab from the heat and picking the topmost mushroom off to pop in his mouth, speaking around it, "And keep your hands off my sidekick. I've a jealous streak a mile long, I'll have you know."

Elijah pulled a bit of onion from Billy's kebab and launched it across the fire in retaliation, which Dom caught easily, smiling cheekily as he popped it into his mouth and then took a bite of steak with it.

He chewed and watched as Billy shot him a glare to shut him up and set about arranging Elijah's fingers into simple chords, and promised a more thorough lesson with the real guitar when they got back.

"Now wait a minute, this is against the rules," Dom claimed, "Promises are being made, so I vote they both have to forego the liquor until the actual learning takes place. No manhood can be gained by playing another man's kebab. Vig? Am I right?"

.

"Depends on who's playing it," Billy quipped as he swaggered back in Dom's direction.

Dom's petulance gave him more than a bit of a thrill. He had to admit, he thrived off of drawing it out of him, and he was getting better and better at it with each passing day.

"Considering our limited resources, I'm willing to make an exception," Viggo decided. "One shot for the ringbearer and two for Billy."

Billy made a ridiculous face at Dom, then twisted back around to catch the bottle of Jack (courtesy of Elijah) and take a swig in one smooth move. Dom shook his head at him with a familiar mixture of annoyance and admiration. 

Elijah offered Billy's uncooked kebab back, too. Billy insisted, "You keep that," then handed the bottle back to Viggo before taking his rightful place next to Dom. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in tight, stealing a bit of steak from him and speaking low into his ear: "I was drunk, sweetheart, it meant nothing."

Yeah, he was pretty sure they were going to be sharing that lone hammock tonight.

.

Dom felt his ears heat up, not from the fire. Billy was a cuddly drunk, that was for sure, and he wasn't going to deny it stroked his ego that Billy came back to him instead of cuddling Elijah or anyone else.

Still, he pouted, pulling a yellow pepper from his kebab and nibbling on it grumpily. Because who was he if he wasn't going to make Billy work for his affections? He did have a jealous streak, after all, and that low whispering tease spun round and round in his head.

"Which way are we going round the circle? Left or right?" he asked.

"Right. Being me." Viggo proclaimed, his gaze idling across the fire at Orlando, lounging like a right little tart. "Never have I ever... done a body shot off an elf." His mouth widened into a lecherous grin.

"What!" Orlando squawked.

"I don't know that this is fair either," Dom questioned, "First of all, you get your shot either way, and second, you're the one who gets to make out with Liv bloody fucking Tyler for the next twelve months."

"Since when are you such a stickler for rules?" Orlando surprised them, grinning himself. "We don't have limes, but..." he plucked a pineapple chunk from the container of fruit and held it between his perfect white teeth, lifting his t-shirt teasingly as he sprawled.

"Fine, fine. I defer to the King, his word is law," Dom smirked, pulling the tupperware closer to himself to build up another kebab, since Billy'd eaten his last bit of steak. "That was some tea, Vig."

Elijah slowly shook his head in awe, "New Zealand makes you gay."

.

After they ran out of wisecracks, an awkward silence fell on their little circle, pulsing with the echo of Elijah's final remark. With Orlando all sprawled out in the dirt, shirt tucked under his armpits, Viggo stalking over to him with that quiet, intense way he had, and no humor to fall back on, the three remaining had a bit of a problem. Orlando was tempting enough to stir the straightest man, they all knew this, accepted it as fact, even, so the scene they were about to witness could cause some... confusion, to say the least.

For that reason, Billy consciously created some distance between he and Dom; he didn't know much about what was about to happen, but he did know that he couldn't be touching Dom when it did, especially considering how pissed they both already were. He kept busy making himself another kebab, doing his best to ignore the wet, breathy sounds coming from his left—and the resulting whoops and applause coming from his right.

"My turn!" Orlando jumped to his feet, looking flushed and utterly satisfied, and shimmied until his shirt made its way back down his torso. 

"Don't say 'Never have I ever done a body shot off a ranger,'" Billy warned.

"No, say it!" Elijah shouted, popping marshmallow after marshmallow straight out of the bag.

Orlando took his earned shot and took his time swallowing it down while he considered. "Never have I ever..." With a little jump and a wicked grin, he gripped the hem of his shirt with both hands and whipped it off. "...run through the woods naked!"

.

Dom watched with his mouth open as Viggo prowled over Orlando. They didn't have any salt either, but that didn't stop him from going through the motions, licking a horizontal stripe of probably salty sweat from the area just below Orli's dark, flat nipples. Orli's ab muscles fused up as Viggo poured tequila into his navel until drops of it spilled out, and he didn't even notice when Billy took the kebab and the supplies away from him.

Afterward, he shifted in his place as he laughed, groin tightening and skin flushing further. "Well, we have something to blackmail the pair of you with should it ever become necessary."

"That should have been documented," Elijah nodded, "Dammit, didn't bring my camera."

Billy had moved, a clear six inches away, and while Viggo moved back to his place and Orlando jumped up, Dom momentarily wondered if he'd done something to offend. But before he could scooch back over to close the distance, Orlando wriggled his jeans and shorts off, dropping them perilously close to the fire and streaked off.

"Shite," Dom muttered, pulling himself up to go after him as Billy conscientiously plucked Orli's pants out of harm's way. "I'm usually the one taking my clothes off, what the hell."

He shook out his bad ankle and dove into the dark, following Orlando's bum through the forest.

.

"Is he going to make sure he's okay or make sweet love to him?" Elijah mused with his mouth full.

Billy cleared his throat, quickly getting more and more uncomfortable. He'd been wondering since day one if there'd be any flings amongst the cast, and if so, who would end up with who. Somehow he knew that Dom would be one of the first, with his cocky I've-seen-and-fucked-all demeanor and his undying penchant for flirting with everyone in the entire world.

He hadn't planned on tonight being the night for any of that shite to start happening, though it was about time, really. But Billy simply wasn't prepared yet, mentally, not that he ever would be—and not that he would be participating. It wasn't a good idea, getting involved with any of these pretty young people, being a part of their games.

Christ, he was getting a bit maudlin all of a sudden. He'd have to blame it on the shite American whiskey.

He decided not to wait until the other two came back before taking his own turn. "Never have I ever been camping." He motioned to Viggo for the bottle while Elijah groaned. "'S true," he defended with a smile.

.

Ankle twinging as he plowed through the ferns, Dom followed resolutely after Orlando's whoops and giggles. Twat. Lightweight. And God forbid he discover another creepy crawly on him now, which he might, naked as the day he was born.

He found him standing in the fairy ring, staring up at the stars the way Billy had. Dom leaned on his tree, taking the weight off his foot, looking over Orlando's body speculatively. He was a thing of beauty, honestly. If Dom could draw, this would be his subject, a lithe, perfectly proportioned man, planes of muscle painted in the moonlight and the darkness dipping into the seams. He was lovely, really. But not Dom's thing.

Male or female, Dom fixated on quirks. Non-conformity. Call it liking that which one liked of himself; he enjoyed oddness. And he admired talent too, and... well, Orlando was fresh out of school, had less to his name than Dom did, so he wasn't quite impressed yet. There was potential there, certainly, it just wasn't quite tapped. But Dom liked Orlando, so for his part, he hoped it would happen for him someday.

Orlando had turned a full circle before he noticed Dom, recognition brightening on his face as he beckoned him over. Dom limped over into the grass, mentally cursing that tree now, "You git. Running off into the great unknown, you could have been attacked by huge spiders."

"No no," Orlando said, cupping Dom's face with a conspiratorial, jovial grin, "They can't touch me now, I'm naked."

"Oh. Right then," Dom blurted in a chuckle, glancing down at Orli's flaccid prick, "That you are. Maybe you should come back to camp and drink some water, eh?"

"Viggo kissed my tummy. It tickled." Orlando whispered. "And Billy likes you."

Dom blinked at Orlando's white teeth, "...What?"

"Can't stop looking at you, can he?" Orlando's eyelids started getting heavy. "Likes your mouth."

Dom looped Orlando's arm over his shoulders, holding his taut frame close, turning them back towards the barely-there glow of the campfire. "You need to go to bed, Orli. You've got a whole hammock all for yourself."

"I wasn't always a vegetarian, you know."

"Come on, you eedjit," Dom limped them back to camp, ankle hurting worse than ever under their combined weight. "Bloody alcohol."

.

When Dom appeared through a copse of trees with a naked elf in tow—and looking completely exasperated—Billy felt himself visibly soften. In respectfully averting his eyes from Orli's nudity (a difficult task, in all honesty), he noticed that Dom seemed to be favoring one of his feet. His brow pinched with concern. He rose. "Here, Dom, I'll get him." He threw Orlando's other arm over his shoulders, smiled at Dom's look of gratitude, and guided him over to what he only assumed was where they'd be sleeping. He gathered up Orlando's hammock on the way; Orli was too annihilated to set it up on his own, and Billy liked to think of himself as quite handy.

After depositing Orli against a tree trunk (where he promptly passed out), Billy turned to Dom, lingering nearby. "Came down from that tree a bit hard, didn't you?" He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"

.

"I...yeah, I just turned my ankle or something," he shuffled back to the fire, trying to hide his limp, grabbing up Orlando's jeans and a bottle of water, bringing them back to where Billy was stringing up the hammock.

"Orlando... Oi," he called to him loudly, tugging on his arm, "You need to put something on to sleep in, Princess. I can't be held responsible if your pecker gets caught up in your hammock and falls off in the night. It's in my contract. Come on."

"Did I win?" Orli asked gleefully as Dom pulled him into a standing position. Billy held him upright while Dom fed his legs back into the jeans and did up the fly for him.

"Yeah, you won," he laughed, while they maneuvered him carefully into the hammock. Dom grabbed and flipped round the bottled water and put it in Orlando's hands, "You won an entire bottle of New Zealand's finest. Drink up."

"You two are cute together," he slurred, and then started snoring once again. They laughed and came back to the fire, Billy's hands quick to steady him on his bad ankle back to his place, where he sat down and took off his shoe.

"It's your turn, Dom," Elijah slurred, looking sleepy himself. "Billy's never been camping."

"He hasn't?" Dom glanced over at Billy, squeezing the ankle joint in his fingers. It still wouldn't pop back into place. "Oh. Uh... Never have I ever chased a nude man through a wood. Or helped him put his pants on either. I should get triple drinks."

"But have you helped one take his pants off?" Viggo questioned sagely.

Dom grinned cheekily. That one he didn't answer.

.

Dom's well-placed silence brought a persistent flush to Billy's face. Of all the things they'd gotten into over the past few months, they'd never made it around to that. They were both tolerant, to say the least, quick with a drop of innuendo or a smacking kiss on the mouth, even, but the reality of that question, "So've you ever been with a bloke?" evaded them. Billy wondered who Dom had spoken to about that, if anyone. He'd been positive from the start that Dom was a little bent, but Dom turned out to be surprisingly mum about his sexual history. He had no problem staring down a girl in a pub for the better part of an hour, remarking, "Gorgeous tits," but you'd never hear him using that kind of language about an ex.

Billy'd already spent an alarming amount of time wondering what kind of guy would inspire lust in Dom, what kind of guys already had. Still, Dom gave him nothing, flirting with and bestowing flowery compliments on every man in the cast and crew. Billy wished he knew what it all meant, if anything.

"You guys are lame." Elijah moved an impressive hunk of chocolate around in his mouth. "Never have I ever played a lamer game of Never Have I Ever."

Billy ignored him, frowning in concentration as he felt around the planes and tendons of Dom's foot. "I think I figured it out. I'm going to pop it back in." Dom instantly tensed up, and Billy smiled. "Brace yourself. I know what a tolerance for pain you have."

.

Dom sucked in a breath when Billy gently took his foot in hand, smoothing the warmth of his palms over it, fingers pressing into the nooks and crannies with surprising strength.

He had a bit of foot thing. No one knew, of course, not even the majority of his ex-girlfriends, aside from the one who had made him discover it. And even over the course of filming, having Feet put on and taken off, having them scrubbed and washed – that was all very technical, it did little for him that way.

But this, watching Billy's fingers test his flesh, Billy's precise little fingers smoothing and pressing until he located the place that twinged – something pooled low and warm, like honey into Dom's gut. Billy himself was pink, rising up in his cheeks like it belonged. From the fire, probably, or the whiskey.

"Wait, wait," Dom stopped, firing off a curling smile at Billy, "Give me my drink first. I'm owed, aren't I?"

He took a good swig of the Jack, warming him further, even as his ears were scalding, and not just from drink. He flashed his eyes back to Billy, grinning, and braced himself back on his hands. "Alright. If I die out here, take my body back to me mum."

BIlly grinned back, positioned his warm hands, and gave Dom's ankle a swift, controlled jerk.

"FUCK!"

.

Billy cackled, accepting the impact of Dom's spazzing. "Alright?" He cradled Dom's ankle loosely in his hands. "Rotate it." Dom obeyed, releasing a breath when there was no pain. "You'll live." Billy smiled beguilingly and gave the arch of Dom's foot a sweet little stroke down the middle before handing it back to him.

Dom's eyes held a bit of their own fire in them, aside from the actual flames that danced inside them like wood sprites, and between that and the way he'd gone all recumbent, Billy felt himself being pulled forward, as if by a string that connected them at the center. He braced himself so he could lean forward, digging the heels of his hands in the dirt. He peered at Dom's sparkly blue toenails (just the big toe and the pinky—the others were left untouched) with a fond, curious expression. "Nice varnish. Did you bring it? Can you do mine?"

Dom bit his lip in contemplation, but before he could answer, Elijah's voice drove a sharp spike between them: "Never have I ever kissed a man."

.

Dom was very rarely taken aback. Yet here he was, quite literally on his back, propped up on his elbows in the dirt with Billy leaning nearly between his knees, His eyes very nearly copper orange in the firelight as he asked Dom to paint his fucking toenails for him. Unsurprisingly, he arrived at Elijah's conclusion before the Yank actually voiced it, which was probably the only thing that stopped him pulling Billy down by the neck and going out of turn.

He licked his lips, still staring at Billy, "Why don't you go kiss Orli goodnight, Peach."

"Dude," Elijah grumbled, "That would be totally necro. He's out cold."

Dom slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, taking particular note that Billy didn't immediately move back until he had little choice. Dom finally looked down at his toes, brushing a thumb over his shiny blue big toe and rotating his ankle a bit more, still twinging a bit, but not nearly as bad.

"I didn't bring it. I've a bunch of colours at home. Oh!" Dom brightened, digging into the depths of his pocket to pull out a purple sharpie. "I could do 'em with this!"

"Still haven't kissed a man here. And clearly I haven't drunk enough either, if you two progressing to playing Pretty Pretty Prom Queen with each other still makes me want to yak a little."

Billy was already pulling his shoes off, and Dom relieved himself of his other trainer. "Vig, kiss the whingy hobbit."

"I dunno, I think I should remain arbitrary," Viggo murmured, stroking his chin, clearly enjoying himself, "Being that I'm the oldest, a man, and King."

Dom sighed, handed Billy the sharpie – "Be right back."– and turned, reeling Elijah in by the neck and snogged him in a way he rather wanted to put somewhere else.

.

Considering it was only meant to appease, Dom really was giving Elijah his money's worth. And try though he did, Billy couldn't tear his eyes away. The soft pliant O of Elijah's mouth, the wet curl of Dom's tongue as it slid inside, the slide of his long fingers around Lij's neck and around his waist. Elijah let out a muffled little noise that Billy felt in the pit of his stomach. He'd never felt such envy in all his life.

When he finally could take it no longer, his gaze dropping to the other side of the fire, Viggo wasn't looking at the pair but straight at him in a curious, knowing way that made his skin overheat all the way down to his now bare feet. The corner of Viggo's mouth curled up almost imperceptibly before he raised his hand to Elijah and Dom. "Alright, now. You've earned your shot."

Dom finally pulled away, leaving Elijah open-mouthed and disheveled.

Billy reached down to pull at his toes absently, refusing to watch Dom swagger back to him. "So Vig, what next? Do I have to blow you?" 

"That's assuming I've never gotten a tongue-lashing from a man," Viggo drawled, leaning over to hand the bottle of Jack to Elijah.

And that bold remark was enough to break Billy's mood. He gave Viggo a grateful grin, uncapped Dom's sharpie with his teeth, and set about coloring in his big toenail.

.

As Elijah was still staring stupidly at him, Dom took the whiskey from Viggo himself. "'S alright, Lij," he grinned, glancing downward with a cheeky tilt to his head, "Everyone gets a stiffy the first time. I have that effect on people."

Elijah sat beck on his heels, forearms strategically tucked in his lap as Dom took two big gulps. He smirked and handed him the bottle, moving back to his space by Billy, wincing at the burn and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Hey, let me," he rumbled, taking the marker from Billy's hand and plucking the cap from his mouth. Sitting cross legged, he took Billy's foot by the heel and propped it on his knee so he could work on his silly little toes.

He hadn't seen Billy's reaction. They'd jokingly bussed each other for laughs on set, of course, chalking it up to Merry and Pip, but now, Dom felt they were on even ground. Payback, he figured, for having watched Billy snog the hell out of Orli in that pub before.

Billy likes you. Likes your mouth, Orlando said, with the pure altruism of someone completely in the piss. Secret fucking knowledge. Orli wouldn't remember even saying it in the morning; it was the sort of drunken observation that could mean nothing. But it bounced around with the whiskey surging in his veins. He ought to cut himself off soon.

He held Billy's foot, careful to keep his touch firm enough not to tickle and yet soft enough to be tender as he colored in each nail, poking his tongue out of his mouth in concentration. When he glanced up, it sent a scary thrill through him to see that Billy was staring at his mouth.

.

Billy let his mouth gape, still tasting the plastic of the marker cap. 

Even when he shut his eyes, he could see that tongue, feel it in his own mouth as if it were running along the roof of it. He tried focusing on the sensation of Dom's hands leaving fingerprints on the skin of his feet, the sharpie squeaking over the surface of his toenails. But it didn't help. He gave up, leaning back on his elbows as Dom had done before, and took a good long look at his mouth. There it was: that tongue, rebelliously poking its way between Dom's lips like an unruly child.

Only a few moments passed before Dom caught him.

He wanted so badly to make a joke about that kiss, about Dom and Elijah, anything to break up the tension, but it just wasn't in him. Between the alcohol, the atmosphere, and the attention he was receiving, his head was starting to feel like it was stuffed with marshmallows. 

He wiggled his toes provocatively in Dom's grip, prompting a stern look from him, then fell completely to his back, throwing one hand over his head and reaching under the hem of his shirt with the other, petting the hair there. His thumb dipped into his navel and he smiled, watching the stars through the treetops. Suddenly, he was feeling impulsive and incandescent, not unlike Dom himself.

Billy rolled his head to the side so he could watch Dom work—and keep an eye on Vig and Lij so long as the game was still going.

Viggo stared off into the fire, thinking. "Never have I ever found my soulmate."

.

After that wriggle, Dom finished the last tiny nail on the left foot and reached for the right. But as Billy fell all the way back, he stopped to watch, entranced at the way he sprawled, a little peek of the skin of his belly beneath his shirt where his fingers stirred.

At Viggo's admission, no one said anything, the mood turning pensive. Dom brushed his fingers over Billy's foot, working between the tendons and rotating each joint gently. He thought about the girl he'd broke up with just before coming down here. That had lasted a year, and it had been good, it had been convenient. He thought about the girl years before that who'd broken his heart. That – he'd decided now after years of contemplation – had been a learning experience, as intense as it had felt at the time. And he thought about all the girls in between, flings that lasted weeks, days, hours.

Dom wondered if soulmates existed at all. Sometimes he figured they could be mates instead of lovers. He felt closer to his mates. Even the few he'd fooled around with. It was fun, sure, but it never really worked for him, so he'd stopped. But he often felt closer to his friends, the old ones back home, and the new ones he'd made here than he did to any of the girls he'd dated.

It had been a very long time since Dom had thought about men the way he was thinking tonight.

A long rattling snore rang out from Orlando's hammock, thoroughly breaking the mood.

"There he is, Vig, your one true love speaks," Dom grinned, gazing down at Billy with more than humour in his eyes. "Someone ought to check he's not drowning in his own vomit."

.

Billy returned his gaze to the sky at Viggo's too-candid words. If they'd been playing this game the traditional way, he wasn't sure whether or not he'd have to take a drink. He'd definitely been in love, a few times, enough to tear his heart out and make him think he was losing his mind. But when it was over, it was over. Those people had no permanence in his life, even if their impact on him suggested otherwise. 

Still, Billy'd never felt like he'd been with anyone who was meant for him, a partner in the way that soulmates were meant to be. He'd always envisioned himself as a jagged geometric puzzle piece and the person he was meant for a complementary one that would fill in all the empty corners. When they met, they'd each have a purpose, and the whole of them would make perfect sense.

Dom's voice cut into his thoughts. He vaguely registered Elijah getting up in the background and trotting over to Orli's hammock.

He watched Dom finger his toes with care, performing such a silly task with a reverence that should have been comical but wasn't. He grinned with mischief. "Never have I ever had my toenails painted. Or colored in, rather."

Elijah let out a frustrated noise as he made his way back to the circle. "You guys fucking blow!"

.

"Never have I ever painted a mate's nails," Dom rumbled, flopping down beside Billy on his stomach. "Or colored them in, rather. Every other bloke I know thinks it's poncy. Even some of the gay ones."

"It is poncy," Elijah glowered. "New Zealand makes you gay, like I said."

"Said the one who quite thoroughly enjoyed his first snog from a man," Dom arched a brow at him, "Wood."

"Natural reaction to stimulus," Lij defended, "My dick can't tell the difference. Plus I'm eighteen."

"Yep, I got a hard-on every time a bloke snogged me when I was eighteen too," Dom yawned, uncapped the sharpie again and set to filling in his own pinky nail.

"Never have I ever got a hard-on from a man," Elijah proclaimed. "Vig, gimme the fucking whiskey."

Dom threw a lopsided grin at Billy, grabbing his hand and coloring in his pinky to match. "Think of how corrupt he'll be in a year's time with us."

.

"'Natural reaction to stimulus,'" Billy scoffed under his breath. "Naturally gay reaction to stimulus." He lifted his head to peer down at his toes. "I don't think it's poncy. But this color doesn't really suit me." He pulled Dom closer, nearly half on top of him. "Look." 

Dom simply shrugged, then propped himself up on Billy's stomach, splaying Billy's hand out on his chest to work on it some more. Billy could feel his heartbeat under it. 

"Aragorn!" he shouted, really feeling the whiskey now. "'S your turn!" He turned to Dom, still hovering over him with that concentration—and that tongue. "Stop that," he whispered, plucking the sharpie out of his grip and tossing it aside with a carefree flourish. This put an impressive pout on Dom's face, so Billy wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him down for a cuddle. Dom burrowed into his chest, smiling against his shirt.

Billy looked down at their hands, now laced together on his stomach, and thought of puzzle pieces.

.

Dom lamented the loss of his sharpie only for a moment. Yeah, Billy was a cuddly drunk, and the heat of the fire combined with Billy's smell – a combination of sweat from the hike, some spicy aftershave and a t-shirt that was clean when he'd put it on, just a hint of fabric softener – and the lazy, drunk warmth of whiskey had him feeling cuddly too.

Plus he could hear Billy's heart going, feel it tharrumping at a higher speed than Dom would have thought for having been laying around. And the odd juxtaposition between Billy's raucous shout for them and his purring whisper, for him. It made Dom's own heart beat a bit faster. He lifted his head, taking a very bold look at Billy's own mouth from rather close range. Small, pink and curling, cherubic, kissable. Dom liked Billy's mouth himself, he really did.

"Never have I ever slept in a hammock," Viggo said, "I've always slept on the ground, that's why I only brought four hammocks."

.

Dom felt so good. So warm and sweet and, angular though his body was, soft. They both ponged quite a bit, but neither seemed to mind. Billy was fully prepared to fall asleep right there in front of the fire, much as it would murder his back by morning. Viggo's explanation for the hammocks actually came as a disappointment. 

It took Billy a while to realize Dom was staring at him. He lifted his head, more than a bit alarmed at what he saw, now only inches away. An image flashed in his head, of him sitting up, leaning forward, and bringing Dom in for a kiss, not unlike the one he'd witnessed before, except... "What're you looking at?" He couldn't keep his head up for Dom's answer, letting it thud back to the ground. His hand found its way into Dom's hair again, pushing his head back down to his chest. "I think I'm for bed."

.

Dom sighed, scooching closer against Billy's side, spooning as much as possible given that Billy was on his back. It was probably for the best that Billy wasn't as impulsive as he was. Especially being this drunk.

"Gay," Elijah pointed out again, just to drive it home.

"Shouldn't sleep on the ground anyway," Dom told them all sleepily. "That little white-tail spider was more or less harmless, but there are other ones that aren't. Plus any number of other things you wouldn't want crawling up your shorts."

Viggo cradled his sword in the flickering light, looking for all the world a Ranger if it weren't for the cowboy shirt and jeans he wore. Elijah was untangling his own hammock from its packaging. Dom watched him, and lulled by Billy's heartbeat, the hypnotic sway of the fire and the chirping sounds of the woods, he dozed off.

.

Billy knew it was time to get up and get the fucking hammock ready, knew he'd be happier for it in the end. The last thing he should've been doing was letting his eyes close, but he was so comfortable (or so buzzed, more like), and Dom wasn't helping with his slow, steady, contented breathing.

It felt like only half a minute had passed when Elijah kicked him gently in the side to wake him. "C'mon, guys. I already set up your shit." He shuffled off to his own hammock before Billy could thank him.

Billy looked down at Dom, still totally out, rising and falling on his chest with his own breath. He gave him gentle tugs on the earlobe until his eyes fluttered open. "Come on," he murmured. "Lij set up your hammock." But Billy still hadn't made a move to get up himself. 

Dom rose up on his arms and squinted around, looking disoriented, hair completely matted on the left side of his head.

Billy smiled. "D'you need to be carried?"

.

He pushed himself off and scrubbed a knuckle into his eye, wondering how long he'd been out. Viggo hadn't moved, still contemplating the fire with his sword hilt propped against his shoulder.

"How're we, uh... who's sleeping where?" He asked, eyes darting between the two of them.

"You two go ahead," Viggo rumbled, putting another log onto the fire and sending sparks up, "I'll be fine here. Don't sleep much anyway, starting a new project like this."

Dom blinked at him for several long moments before nodding, flashing a glance at Billy before hauling himself to his feet. He rotated his ankle again before putting his weight on it, giving the still reclining Bill a soft smile. "I need a pee."

Leaving them alone, he stumbled off into the woods (Jesus he was pissed), passing the hammocks Elijah strung up, one near to Orlando's snoring and the other sort off by itself on the other side. It irked him, on a nearly primary school level, as he stood out in the bush holding a stream. He'd been so comfortable tucked into BIlly's side. It seemed only fair that they should at least have hammocks near to each other.

He put his hand out on the base of the nearby tree, shaking his head. What am I doing? he thought.

.

Ultimately, Billy decided to sacrifice his own comfort on Dom's behalf, settling on the hammock nearest to Orli and his array of snores. He took his time working off his jeans, but when he was done folding and fluffing them into a makeshift pillow, Dom still hadn't returned. He felt so juvenile, waiting for him like this, just to say goodnight. But it only seemed right; they'd been so intertwined for the last few hours.

After he'd unraveled the blanket Elijah'd left him and draped it over the hammock, there was no stalling measure left. He peered into the dark, smiling when he heard the slow crunch of leaves. 

Finally Dom materialized, looking perfectly at home in bare feet, much more so than Billy. He approached with a tired but still curious smile.

Billy fussed with his watch, clasping and unclasping it. "Fun night."

.

"Yeah," he gave a half grin, taking in Billy's jean's pillow set up with an amused huff.

Elijah's hammock swung a bit with his foot dangling out to rock it, a pair of headphones perched on his head, of course with his discman on his belly. Orlando shifted nearby, his arm falling off the edge of the netting. Dom shook his head and tucked it back in for him. "He's gonna be pleasant in the morning."

He looked over at the lonely hammock off to the side, scratched the side of his neck, and then peered through the saplings at the campfire, catching Viggo mid-yawn. Liar.

He worried at his bottom lip and turned his eyes back to Billy. "So."

.

"So." Billy found himself suddenly no longer battling with fatigue, the spark of the moment giving him a somewhat embarrassing second wind. He looked down at his toenails, that ridiculous violet against the greenery, remembering that the same guy who'd colored them in was the same guy who'd nearly gotten them all into a brawl at the pub last week, and his heart swelled with a strange gratitude. Dom didn't make any kind of logical sense, and Billy was mad for it.

He smiled, shaking his head at himself; he did always get absurdly emotional when he drank this much. He was so happy that Dom was here, that he was the one who got to spend all this time with him. Dom was captivating, had a gravitational pull that reeled in anyone who got within a mile's radius of it. That he seemed to want to be around Billy as much as he did was mind-boggling and, frankly, confused the hell out of him.

He found himself pulling Dom in by the neck and pressing a firm but chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. He breathed the beginning of a laugh, surprised and pleased that Dom seemed to be rubbing off on him now. He could use some of that irreverence. "'Night, you."

.

Dom grinned, wrapping his arms round for an extra squeeze, tucking his chin over Billy's shoulder. What a silly night. Strange, drink induced and completely unnecessary, but dominated by silliness. And sweetness too. Billy Boyd was, beyond the Scottish pride and the foul mouth and the unending good humor (and the bad humor too), a sweet person.

And it was that sweetness that took all of Dom's uncertainty and misgivings about tonight and his thoughts away. He pulled back, glancing down at the ground. And Billy's feet.

"Orange," he laughed, turning to his own hammock and calling over his shoulder by way of a goodnight. "Next time I'm doing your toes orange."

He walked over to his own hammock and flopped down onto it, taking a deep breath of earthy, fresh night air. He saw Billy climb into his hammock, setting it swaying a bit. He twisted to look over at Viggo again. Their new King, their faithful Strider. Here all of a few weeks and falling decidedly into place far easier than anyone expected. He stayed there in the clearing, the lone cowboy with a fuck off sword, chewing on the end of a blade of grass and banking the fire with a green stick. The picture carried Dom off into his dreams.


	7. Birthday Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December, Wellington ~ 1999

Dom had a beer in one hand and a party hat strapped on his head by Viggo, his house already milling with people and more coming all the time. He didn't even have to answer the door anymore, someone was always closer and willing to open it to friends and colleagues.

In the kitchen people had brought food, from nibblers to salads and casseroles, and a two massive cakes from a couple of girls in catering that he often flirted with, and masses of beer, in coolers and taking up a whole shelf in his fridge. Phillippa had brought a whole roast chicken and a fancily wrapped present, and Liv bloody fucking Tyler was sat on the arm of his sofa, her long legs crossed and giggling demurely at Orlando doing his absolute damnedest to dazzle the fuck out of her. Whether or not he was succeeding was anyone's guess. Dom contemplated wandering over and dropping a mention or two of Orlando's naked drunken romp through the forest a couple of weeks ago, just to take him down a notch.

Billy wasn't here yet, and it wasn't like Billy to be fashionably late to a party where ample amounts of food and drink would be involved. Or where Dom was the center of it all. In fact, it was making him nervous, considering the last few weeks and the tensions going on between them. Dom was now reasonably sure of where that sizzling was coming from, at least on his end.

So when someone opened his door across the crowded room, his heart did a ridiculously stupid little flip to see Billy finally arrive, and with that black guitar case strapped on his back.

.

Billy felt awfully disoriented tonight, for many reasons. Firstly, the weather; it was so fucking gorgeous, he had to keep pinching himself as a reminder that yes, this was reality, and reality was a December summer. Secondly, that this was all actually happening, and indefinitely so. The more time that passed, the more convinced he became of just how long he was going to be here on the other side of the world. He was friends with Liv bloody Tyler, and Ian bloody McKellan would be arriving in just a few short days. It was unreal, or it should have been unreal, except that it was too real.

And then there was Dom. Completely unexpected, thoroughly engaging (and confusing) Dom. Ever since that night camping, there'd been a ridiculously twee flutter in his stomach nearly every time he'd expected to see him, which was often. He'd try to compensate with jibes of the most profane order, but they only ended up turning into thinly veiled flirtations. There'd been dreams, too, the first weeks back, too early to have meant anything on a conscious level, but countless over the last week or so, both remembered and forgotten (save for a painful morning erection and an unmistakeable flush to his skin). One in particular seemed to be running on a loop in his head as he gathered his things to leave the flat and head over to Dom's: the two of them sitting up against a tree trunk in Hobbiton, as Merry and Pippin, Dom cupping his face and dipping into his mouth over and over again, soft and lazy, sometimes with teeth, his eyes all lidded and full of intent.

Fuck. 

Billy bit his lip against that persistent flutter again as he hoisted his guitar case over his shoulder and shuffled out the door. The idea that tonight was Dom's, for him, had him inexplicably nervous.

By the time he got there, though, he had his usual smile plastered on and all inappropriate thoughts—conscious or unconscious—safely tucked away. If he hadn't, Elijah would have knocked them straight out of his head, nearly accosting him at the door.

.

Dom bit his lip as Billy barely made it past the threshold before getting nearly taken off his feet by Elijah's enthusiasm for him, or rather, for the guitar. It had been at Elijah's Yankee Thanksgiving dinner a week ago that he'd got his promised lesson. Dom had watched that with a little envy, this time not playing a meat kebab, but the real thing, Billy's coveted acoustic, and with Billy's neat hands over Elijah's showing him what to do. Afterward, he'd launched into a few songs so they could all listen to someone who could really play, and who could really sing. Dom had been very happily drunk by then, and his admiration and enchantment of Billy had gone sky high.

So the very idea that Billy had brought the guitar with him to Dom's birthday and with no promises of any kind involved had him fidgeting with excitement and nerves and something else. He needed to calm down. He spotted Orlando again, gesturing grandly as he spoke, Liv hiding a smile behind her beer.

"...and so then my mate pushes me down the bloody hill backwards and I went all the way down before I cracked my head open at the bottom on a tree."

"Which entirely explains why you think Liv here is even remotely impressed, Orli," Dom dropped, sidling up to the conversation and keeping on eye on Billy at the door.

"Well, she should be, right?" Orlando beamed, smacking him on the shoulder, "I'm still alive, I'm not brain damaged or anything."

"Well," Dom intoned, shooting her a sidelong glance, "Doctors miss these things sometimes."

"And that was the second time I cracked my head open. The first time—"

.

"BILL! Oh my God you brought it are you gonna play something what are you gonna play?!" Elijah spat at him, the beer especially heavy on his breath from only a few inches away. Everyone in the vicinity laughed heartily at this display, though it was obvious that they would soon grow tired of Elijah's exuberance.

"Yes and yes," Billy answered. "The band," he explained seriously before breaking into an impish grin and pulling Elijah in for a hug. Over Elijah's shoulder, he finally glimpsed Dom for the first time, looking happy and energetic, his usual self whenever they all celebrated anything together but with something extra, that glow that came from having all the attention on him. 

Billy took a breath before brandishing the bottle of whiskey he'd brought for the occasion. "Where's the birthday boy?!" he shouted, making everyone part in an almost comical way, creating a path between them.

.

Dom laughed heartily, then began a mimed slo-mo run down the line of his friends. "Everybody hum Chariots of Fire, come on," he said, garnering a laugh and kept on, taking the last few steps normally, "Look at this, he brings me drink and music, himself to serenade me, what else do I need?" Dom joked loudly, wrapping his arms around Billy jovially.

There was something else to it though, under the surface. Even with Billy's one hand occupied holding the scotch, his other pushed up into Dom's hair in the back like it so often had in the last months, and held the hug far longer than strictly necessary, even with people moving around them. Billy smelled good. He smelled like he always did, there was nothing different there, but it was good nonetheless, making Dom turn his head minutely into his neck to inhale.

He finally let go, taking the bottle as Billy lifted the strap of the guitar case over his head, Elijah more than eager to take it from him. Dom smiled happily. The bottle was a good imported scotch, of course. Billy wouldn't buy anything less. He reached up and lifted Dom's party hat, letting it snap back to his head by the elastic. 

Dom grinned back at him. Now Billy was here, it felt like the party could finally start. "What kept you?" he asked quietly.

.

"Was writing you a symphony, of course." Billy watched as Dom's smile turned into a giggle, his eyes dancing, inhaling himself as he suddenly remembered that dream again. He could tell that Dom wasn't quite satisfied with his answer but that he'd gotten away with it anyway, buzzed off of the occasion (and Billy's arrival) as he was.

Billy noted, not for the first time, how everyone magically dispersed around the two of them, leaving Dom's side to recede into the background. He wrapped an arm around Dom's shoulders, reeling him in, dropping his voice low. "Having fun, then?"

.

"Yeah," Dom turned them both, heading into the kitchen. He still wondered what had kept Billy, and what he had planned, especially involving his guitar. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he would wait and see. Every surprise Billy had brought down here to New Zealand had been worth it.

Food spread over every available surface of Dom's kitchen, and he handed Billy a paper plate to fill, biting into another little sausage roll himself as he tucked Billy's bottle of scotch in with the other liquor. "Hungry?" he asked, "There's loads of beer too, all sorts."

"Dominic!" Viggo's voice was calling from the living room. Dom poked his head out. Viggo gestured him out casually, and he looked at Billy before going.

"Twenty-three years," Viggo said, and a hush fell around the large group to hear the King speak, putting his hands on Dom's shoulders. Dom grinned, feeling both singled out and special, darting another glance over his shoulder after Billy, who stood near Orlando and Liv watching, munching through a plate of food.

"In Denmark," Viggo began, "We hang the flag of your people outside the house to celebrate one's birthday, which I've done," he gestured to the front window, where a British flag was tacked. "In Argentina, we tug the ears for every year of life. Although yours don't need any more help," he grinned, giving Dom's ears several good tweaks to much laughter.

"And in America," Viggo's voice rose, his eyes glinting, "It is essential for good luck and long life that the birthday boy be spanked."

.

Billy threw his head back and laughed with the others, feeling a flush blossom across the back of his neck. He heard Elijah and Orlando let out loud whoops nearby. He returned his attention to his plate, sad to see it half-empty already—all that nervous energy had left him famished, and it wasn't quite gone yet, either.

He hung back, quickly wolfing the rest of his plateful down—a few sausage rolls, shrimp, mini crab cakes, and a handful of carrots and cucumbers for good measure. As Viggo rallied all the interested spankers in a line (of which there were many), Billy noticed Dom glancing back through the archway into the kitchen.

"Growing boy, huh?" a sweet-as-sugar voice asked, leaving Billy wide-eyed and munching stupidly. Liv. One of her first nights here, Dom had said she sounded like cotton candy—not to her face, of course, at least not at first. Billy had agreed in the sort of haze that typically befell him whenever she walked over to him, like now.

It wasn't that he was uncomfortable around her—she was much too genuinely friendly for that—but he'd have been lying if he wasn't a bit overwhelmed by how fucking gorgeous she was, especially up close. 

"Absolutely," Billy answered, his own voice going that shade sweeter it always did with her. 

"I take it you're not a spanker, then," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully at him.

He smiled innocently as he sucked the juice from the sausage off his fingers. "Not tonight, no."

.

Dom laughed, feeling his cheeks burn, and turned back to see Billy's take on it, only to find him being coy and flirty with Liv near by the kitchen archway, making Dom smile. He couldn't hear them, but he knew Billy well enough by now to be able to tell when a woman made him nervous, which was fairly rare. Liv, though, wasn't a normal woman by a long shot. It was like having a goddess in his house. Something about her made Billy look younger, bashful, a pink taking up residence in his cheeks when she leaned closer to speak. She made him look like Pippin.

It was weird that Billy seemed to be hanging back rather than jumping into the line of people. Even Elijah had leaned the guitar in a corner to get a turn, asking if there would be a paddle. "No paddle! Paddles are for sororities and bondage," Viggo yelled.

"You mean you have to use your hands?" Elijah asked.

"LINE! PAY UP." That call came from several corners, including Dom, remembering with a fondness the day they'd watched Elijah's old films, including Back to the Future II. Elijah swore and and dug his wallet out.

"Vig, do I take my trousers down?" Dom called, grinning wickedly, keeping an eye on the pair in the kitchen, "Weed it down to the twenty-three of you who really want to get your hands on my arse. No, it's alright, I understand. It's very appealing, as arses go."

.

Talk of disrobing had Billy turning his ears back to the living room, back to Dom, who was busy standing like a peacock in front of a queue of eager spankers—led by Orlando—surrounded on all sides by happily eating and drinking crew members.

He glanced idly down at Liv's empty hands. "You don't want anything?" he asked, half offering and half concerned.

She shook her head quickly, grinning sweetly, but there was a hint of something underneath it, something Billy'd seen in women, especially actresses before. It wasn't so much an issue in Scotland, but he could imagine the pressure on someone like Liv to look a certain way.

Back in the living room, things had gotten loud. Dom was doing a bit of a striptease, hands playing mock-seductively at his button fly as he shimmied. 

Beside him, Liv let out an airy whisper of a laugh, watching too. "What did you get him?" she asked.

"Aside from an incredible bottle of whiskey that he's going to spend the rest of his life repaying me for?" Billy raised a playful eyebrow. "You'll see. Soon."

.

Orlando shuffled up and pushed Dom against the back of the sofa before he undid his buttons. "Are we counting? One!"

"Weak!" Dom laughed at Orlando's spank, "Come on, you've got to put your back into — Ah!"

"Two!"

"'S more like it, you've done this before, who was th—Oh, hey Jude."

"Three!" Soon the room was raucous laughter and counting, and Dom looked again for Billy. He half-expected him to jump in at the end of the line, but it seemed almost as if he was trying not to pay attention at all.

.

Billy felt suddenly determined to keep his eyes on Liv's face, focusing on the pillowy red of her lower lip and the midnight black of her eyelashes creating a halo around dark blue—not a difficult task. But the image of Dom through the throng of people, gripping the back of the sofa with his long fingers, his hips pushing minutely into the fabric with every pass of their friends' hands, kept drawing him, drawing and then repelling. Billy wondered if he was the only one who realized how indecent it looked, even as he nodded at Liv's words.

It never ceased to amaze him, the sheer amount of love that Dom inspired, especially in a crowded room, tonight being a prime example. Dom put it out himself first, oozed it really, and he got it back a hundredfold, the energy in the house nearly making the walls shake. The love you take is equal to the love you make, Billy thought with a quiet smile. 

He was finding it more and more difficult over the past few days to contend with it, that mixture of affection, envy, and lust that would bubble up in his chest in situations like this. He watched Dom alternately bow his head and toss cheeky remarks over his shoulder at his assailants, and suddenly, fiercely wished that it was just a few of them and not the whole bloody roster of cast and crew.

.

"Nineteen!"

"Naughty, Gwen!" Dom glanced back at the dwindling line, "Christ, Lawrence save your strength for the battlefield, alright? I always liked you. AH!" 

"Twenty!"

Dom winced, "Don't like you so much anymore. Oh, not Sala too, what are you guys, joined at the—" Dom gritted his teeth.

"Twenty-one!"

"—hip."

"Twenty-two!"

"Oh thank God."

"Twenty-three!"

Finally, Dom unwrapped his fingers from the upholstery with a sigh. He smiled painfully, turning back. "Well, that was a lovely tradition."

Viggo grinned, grabbing him abruptly and turning him over his knee, giving his arse a final, loud smack.

"The fuck?" Dom squirmed as Viggo set him back upright.

"One to grow on, of course," the King announced to applause. Dom laughed with the rest, rubbing his abused bum.

"Right, everyone, back to your knitting, then," Dom glanced back to Billy, hoping for some form of rescue, or at least solidarity. "So, Vig? When's your birthday?"

"It was days after I arrived, hobbit," Viggo ruffled Dom's hair viciously, "I'm afraid your retaliation will have to wait."

.

When Billy noticed Dom's eyes subtly seeking him out, he found himself tearing through the rest of his food (much to Liv's amusement), folding his plate up, and shoving it into the bin in the kitchen as he made his way over. He licked and thumbed crumbs from his mouth, eyeing the front of Dom's shorts speculatively. "I think he's growing on yours already, Vig."

.

Dom blinked for a second, double checking his fly and shifting subtly. More and more in the last week Billy said things that made every one of Dom's canned responses die in his throat. He cleared his own and shrugged, waggling his brows, "Hey, I'm twenty-three, right? Not everyone gets this much action in one night, and can stand up to the task."

Even with Phillippa throwing him a dirty look for that one, Dom darted a look back to Billy and headed for the nearest cooler, digging out another beer for himself and cracking the top. This had been going on for days, weeks, even, this... thing he couldn't figure out.

He could. Were it anyone other than Billy, Dom could recognize a come-on from a mile away, albeit much easier from a girl than a guy. But ever since that camping trip, hell, ever since that night when Billy'd snogged Orlando, Dom had been second-guessing all the quasi-flirting, all the hobbity love-ins and cuddling and nights when they never seemed to separate.

More, he questioned himself and why it got a rise out of him in the first place, why he had Billy wandering into his mind at inopportune times, why he felt so bloody warm when he was around. He'd put this away, years ago.

"Is it time for presents yet?" he asked loudly, eyeballing the pile in the corner.

.

At that magic word, Billy's heart jumped into his throat, his nerves returning with a vengeance. His eyes darted back in the direction of the kitchen, seeking liquid courage. His present wasn't just something Dom could unwrap and be done with; he hadn't been joking when he'd said he'd written him a symphony, at least not entirely. 

He'd gotten the idea only a few days before, when they'd all been tossing out ridiculous, grand schemes for Dom's birthday. Dom had made some idle quip about hiring Billy out as the entertainment, one of many quips in the wake of hearing him sing along with his own guitar for the first time. It'd been a bit frantic, having to put a medley together that quickly—picking out the notes by ear had meant begging off one or two nights out at the pub. Dom hadn't given him too much shite for that, so long as Billy assured him with a gleam in his eye that it would be worth letting him stay home.

It surprised Billy, how easily the line-up of songs had come to him, and how varied it was. There were, of course, the old predictable favorites, ones it would have been a crime not to include on such an occasion. But there were also two or three seemingly random choices, songs that Dom had mentioned loving in passing, during a tired car ride home after a thirteen-hour day or snuggled up to Billy on set, sharing a set of earbuds. Billy'd have been lying if he said his nerves weren't mostly in anticipation of how Dom would react to such attention to detail on his part. He'd decided not to linger too much on why he'd remembered himself.

The opening of gifts, interestingly enough, proved less of a draw than the spanking, probably because there were more people on the films interested in giving Dom a smack than a gift. Elijah appointed himself Dom's "Vanna White," collecting wrapping paper in a big garbage bag and announcing and presenting all the presents grandly. Billy leaned against the arch all the while, sipping from a generous helping of whiskey he'd procured, unable to really pay attention.

.

Dom worked his way through the pile, keeping up a running commentary throughout. Most of it was predictable, liquor enough to last him the year, numerous gag gifts, comedy videos, nail varnish, the occasional scarf, a heap of obscure CDs from Elijah. Dom enjoyed it all and was gracious; he loved presents as much as the next person. 

"Is that it?" Elijah asked, pouting almost as if the to-do was for him. 

.

Billy bit his lip, watching as Dom predictably raised big sparkling puppy dog eyes in his direction. "No," he announced, draining the rest of his whiskey and turning to place the empty on the kitchen counter. He walked back through the living room with purpose, all too aware of Dom's eyes on him. Somewhere in the background, Elijah gasped, squealing something that sounded like "Yay!"

Billy tossed him a bemused smile as he leaned down, pulling his guitar case down flat to open it. He lifted the heavy acoustic from its velvet interior and rose to his feet again, pulling the strap down over his head and strumming out some warm-up chords as he strode over to the coffee table. 

Dom ducked his head, blushing a bit as he fiddled with a brand new navy blue scarf around his neck, looking much younger than his now twenty-three years.

Billy adjusted a couple of the knobs minutely; he'd tuned it just before leaving his own place, so it didn't need much. He glanced up at Dom. "I'm not giving it to you, if that's what you're thinking."

.

"Of course not. I'd rather have you anyway," Dom grinned. Billy's eyes held on his for a moment at that, making him elaborate, "To play it for me."

A hush fell over the house as everyone got the idea what was happening, and Elijah eagerly raced to cut off the music from the stereo, giving Billy an anticipatory silence. He cleared his throat, looking a little bashful now as he began to pick out the first notes of a song. Dom broke into a huge grin when he recognized it.

.

Billy's fingers stuttered at Dom's words, then quickly found their way to the opening notes of "Birthday" by The Beatles. " _You say it's your birthday, it's my birthday too, yeah, they say it's your birthday, we're gonna have a good time. I'm glad it's your birthday, happy birthday to you._ " 

Dom let out a helpless little giggle as Billy shifted into the next tune. 

He darted his eyes at Elijah as he began, " _Justine never knew the rules/Hung down with the freaks and the ghouls…_ " Elijah applauded loudly, rocking in his seat on the floor. Billy Corgan's range didn't mesh quite right with Billy's, at least not the lower register, but it was a great song, and one he knew both Dom and Lij loved. " _No apologies ever need be made, I know you better than you fake it/To see that we don't even care to shake these zipper blues/And we don't know just where our bones will rest, to dust I guess, forgotten and absorbed into the earth below…_ "

Billy's fingers suddenly struck a sudden, hard chord, launching into what he considered the "Dom's childhood favorites" section of the medley: snippets from ridiculous eighties hits, not-so-guilty pleasures of Dom's like "U Can't Touch This" and "Ice Ice Baby." Billy'd never attempted anything close to rapping in front of anyone, even Dom, so this nearly killed Dom, breaking him up to the point of keeling over and losing his breath.

Now that he'd gotten everyone laughing and feeling silly, Billy was able to really throw himself into it. He slowed his fingers. " _Destiny, destiny protect me from the world._ " Dom let out a little whoop at that: one of his favorite Radiohead songs—and an appropriate one. " _Destiny, hold my hand, protect me from the world. Here we are with our running and confusion, and I don't see no confusion anywhere._ "

Elijah, Dom, and a few others joined in to sing the chorus along with him. " _And if the world does turn and if London burns, I'll be standing on the beach with my guitar. I want to be in a band when I get to heaven, anyone can play guitar and they won't be a nothing anymore._ "

Billy was keeping his eyes mostly on his hands and the strings at this point, unable to meet the intensity of Dom's stare.

.

Dom watched Billy sing, breathing heavily himself. After the elation of laughing so hard and then switching to this song, this song, it took his breath away entirely. Billy's voice was very like Thom Yorke's, something Dom had not realized the few times he'd heard Billy sing before this.

Billy sang it all the way through to riotous applause. Dom started to get up to thank him, but Billy began picking out a new tune, making him sink back into his seat and listen, trying to find a thread in the tune that he knew.

" _Steal the night, to a light that's still far away, you're still further._ "

Dom darted a glance at Elijah, whose eyebrows were also pinched in confusion; Billy'd found a song neither of them knew, and that was a feat.

" _Pace the floor, find the door through a fish-eyed stare, sets for tomorrow. Time creeps like a southern storm. Time marches in uniform._ "

Billy's eyes stayed closed and concentrating, even as he lifted his voice an octave as the pace of the song picked up.

" _But your smile, it sends me a thousand rainbows, catch my eye, reflect in this hotel window. I wish that I could see you again, my friend._ "

.

Billy shut his eyes to the room, his pulse quickening again at the thought of sharing this for the first time with so many people. With the utter silence that fell throughout the house, he could almost imagine he was simply alone in his room, working out the kinks of it. He'd written it—or started to, at least—on one of the first nights here, a particularly homesick one.

" _Sit and stare at this prize of a foreign sky, no joy for me. Need to share all this wonder I’ve chanced upon, I need you to see._ " He glanced quickly at Dom's face, still seeing joy there but also questions in his eyes. He ended a bit awkwardly, in the middle of what he hoped would eventually turn into a full song. He shrugged in apology to the room at large, strumming a loud flourish. "'S a work in progress," he laughed, his eyes returning to Dom. "Happy birthday."

.

Dom stared, even as the room struck up applause again, this time far more subdued, but certainly no less appreciative, several swarming in and patting Billy on the back, offering compliments.

Dom rose from his chair and made his way through, Billy's eyes meeting his behind the shoulders and bodies of others, lifting the guitar strap over his head. Dom shook his head, surprised, hugging Billy tightly, people vanishing around them again into the shadow of the spotlight with which Dom so often saw him.

He remembered back, way back to the first day when they'd first met, and Billy'd spoken of writing his own music as something he needed to do, something he couldn't not do, like breathing. That he'd chosen to share it with everyone here was something special. That he'd chosen Dom's birthday to do it implied worlds more.

"Was that for me?" he murmured into Billy's shoulder, the question only between them.

.

"'Course it was, you fucking eejit," Billy laughed sweetly, pursing a kiss to that tender patch of skin just before Dom's ear. He could feel their hearts thudding loudly next to each other. He felt so relieved. 

Dom definitely noticed, pulling him impossibly close, rubbing a firm hand down the center of his back.

Billy fingered the hair at his nape, keeping his mouth right up next to his ear. "Was it all right? Or d'you think I'm just a cheap bastard?"

.

Dom indulged himself, just for a second in Billy, the warmth of his skin beneath the cotton of his shirt, the way pressed this close, Dom could feel how wired he was from performing, his pulse tripping like crazy. And still Billy tilted him off balance, fingers pushing into Dom's hair again, squeezing his eyes shut at the brush of Billy's perfect lips setting fire to his cheeks and ears.

"Was fantastic. You're fantastic. You're..." Dom stopped, pushing Billy back by the shoulders with a grin, "My best present. Up to and including that whiskey you brought."

He darted in, pressing a swift kiss to Billy's mouth and set the guitar aside for him taking his hand to drag him through the crowd. "Speaking of which, I think you should get a glass after that. And cake. Come on."

.

Billy kept his hand limp in Dom's grasp, the gesture feeling utterly coupley, even for them. The kitchen was blessedly empty, allowing for some much needed silence as Dom poured out two generous tumblers, handing one to him and keeping one for himself.

Billy smiled as their glasses met with a clink, his lips still moist and tingling a bit from Dom's kiss. Christ, was he in trouble.

"I can't believe I just did MC Hammer," he laughed. "I'd never do that for anyone else. I hope you appreciate that."

.

"I love you for that. Haven't laughed that hard since..." Dom chuckled, but hesitated at Billy's sidelong glance, dropping his eyes to the drink in his hand, "Well, since the last time you made me laugh that hard."

He gnawed on his lip a bit, trying to push that filter back into place between his brain and his mouth. He'd said it before in friendly happiness, but the constant buzz Billy set under his skin suddenly made those words start to twist into something else in his head. The whiskey glowed like amber in the glass under the lights, smooth and peaty and warming, a scent and a taste he'd always associate with the man beside him now.

"You wrote that?" Dom asked, a little warily. "You're writing it, I mean? Like," he tried to narrow his scattered thoughts amongst the lyrics he'd heard, "Does being here influence that or is it something you started before?"

.

"Ehm," Billy breathed, a bit bashful at the attention. "Yeah. I started it when we first got here. 'S finally started taking shape over the last few weeks. And you haven't stopped asking to hear something for the past two weeks, so."

Dom nodded, looking slightly bashful himself. Billy hadn't even had two drinks yet, and he already wanted to pull him in for another hug. He settled on resting a hand on Dom's waist, thumb rubbing at warm skin through his shirt. 

"How's tonight been? 'M sorry I was so late," he apologized finally.

.

"It's been good," Dom answered absently, still thinking on the idea of Billy writing his own music, wondering how he did it, and when. Did he sit up late at night with the guitar and paper? On the few occasions when they weren't together, did he go home with lyrics in his head? "Becca and Janeane brought me cake," he elaborated lamely, feeling stupid and nervous again, in that silly way the often struck him around Billy.

"Where is he?" called Orlando's voice from the other room, coming into the kitchen behind Billy and draping himself over his back like an octopus, "Look at this little fucking rock god," he grinned, planting a kiss on Billy's cheek. "I fucking love you, Billy. I want songs on my birthday."

Dom turned his eyes to the extra trash bin, already full of paper plates and plastic forks. His nostrils flared with an exhale as a scrounging feeling wormed its way through his gut to hear Billy laugh in return. Orlando was clearly several drinks in to the party and not about to waste it.

 

.

Billy shifted his hands to Orlando's forearms, not unlike he'd been cradling his guitar only moments before, indulging such an obviously drunken show of affection. He stretched his neck a bit, shooting him a wary look. "You're looking to get snogged again, aren't you?"

Orlando wriggled his tongue at him provocatively: a move learned from Dom, no doubt. Billy recognized it.

He noticed Dom suddenly going slightly withdrawn, sulky even, and he empathized, wanting to cling to that brief moment they'd had to themselves just before. "Sorry, Orli. That medley was specially made to order. A one time thing." He watched as Dom lifted his eyes to Orlando with a smirk.

"Oh Christ, are you two going to act all married again, now?" Orlando pulled him even closer, rocking him awkwardly. "I hope you're getting some perks out of this, Bill," he drawled into his ear.

.

The corner of Dom's mouth quirked up as that squirm of jealousy was replaced by giddy euphoria, and he hid it by finishing off his scotch, turning under the pretense of putting his glass by the sink and looking over the two cakes piped with his name. For him, Billy'd done it just for him then, and Christ, Dom felt like a big girl about it.

"Maybe you can get Vig to spank you on your birthday, Orli," he turned back, waggling his brows, catching Billy's eye, "Or maybe he'll write you a poem. Wouldn't that be something?"

.

"Maybe you can get him to spank you tonight," Billy said hopefully, his eyebrows going up. The remark was half in jest and half in a subconscious effort to get Orli out of the room again. He was starting to feel slightly juvenile about it, wanting to haul Dom off outside for a walk or something—somewhere no one would find them. He glanced at his watch. "It's well into the night now. He's probably pissed enough."

As usual, Billy's jibe didn't ruffle Orlando nearly as much as one of Dom's would have, his long-fingered hand merely going a bit rougher in Billy's hair as he held him. "Piss off," he said sweetly.

It hit Billy for about the hundredth time, just how strange this cast was, all the cuddling and flirting and innuendo—it was like bloody drama school all over again, only worse. None of them were really forthcoming about it, not even Billy himself, who actually had something to tell, as opposed to, he assumed, most of the others. 

He really did wonder about Dom, though, he had since day one. He wondered if he'd invite anyone to stay over at the end of the night, one of those Make-up girls perhaps, finally.

Billy watched him. "Do you've any resolutions for Year Twenty-three?"

.

"Dunno. The usual one of doing something brilliant seems to be bang on," Dom shrugged, tilting his head, "I'm a little more worried about Year Twenty-four."

Billy grinned at that, his eyes bright and his hair gone spiky from Orlando's mauling. Orlando himself squeezed him again, grabbing a handful of carrot sticks and wandered drunkenly off again. Dom wondered just how far Orli's infatuation with Viggo went. Honestly, everyone here found the man fascinating; he was just one of those people who was the perfect combination of genius, medicine man, fucking crazy bastard and a genuinely unique human being. Dom was as fascinated by him as much as anyone. Just not the same way he was by Billy.

Billy was just not likely to be bent, even a little. He certainly played on it, but not any more than the rest of them. Dom didn't consider himself bent either, not really, he was just willing to give things a try if the opportunities presented themselves. And they had, with gay and bi acquaintances, people Dom had messed around with, letting them take initiative until he felt weird and left off. But there had also been the couple of times he'd made a move on mates he'd become irrationally attached to, and those hadn't ended well.

He worried his lip and chuckled, shaking his head. He had to wonder if Orlando even had any clue outside of his occasional drunken astuteness. Dom still hadn't forgotten how it was the Elf who realized exactly how often Billy's eyes latched to his mouth; it had fueled more than a few late night fantasies since that camping trip, not least because it was true.

"EVERYBODY!" Dom yelled, though he kept sparkling eyes on Billy, "I want cake! I'm cutting it with or without you!"

.

A shivering giggle worked its way up and out of Billy's throat. He watched Dom pull the drawer open with a flourish and brandish a massive knife. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Billy chuckled, holding his hands in front of him as Dom stumbled a bit.

Dom waggled his brows and turned his back, focusing his attention on the twin platters of cake. Over the rise of his shoulder, Billy watched his elegant hands deftly slice a line down the center of the first. He thought suddenly of the spread of Dom's fingers on his stomach on the ground in front of Viggo's fire, how they fit between his own.

Still feeling the rush of release from performing—and something so personal—Billy grabbed up the whiskey and took a healthy, well-deserved swig. He nestled himself right beside Dom and leaned his hip against the counter, trying his best to mentally stave off the rest of the guests from coming into the kitchen, disrupting their little world. He slowly curled a fingertip against the side of the cake Dom was working on, half-hoping Dom wouldn't notice and half-hoping he would.

.

"Hey!" Dom's yelp failed to stop Billy from swiping his finger through the frosting, so he grabbed his wrist fast, his other hand dropping the knife with a clatter on the plates. Billy's face looked both mischievous and a bit surprised as Dom slipped that arm around his middle and pulled him in tight, Billy's free hand grabbing at his elbow.

"My cake," Dom growled, "I get first taste." And he popped Billy's finger into his mouth, sucking off the frosting.

He had no idea what made him do it. The fact that Billy was already so close, that he was still high off being sung to, that he'd wrestled and poked his tongue in Billy's ear and snogged him and done any other number of other things to and with Billy for the purpose of having a laugh. This, though, it seemed like it shattered some sort of boundary, with the way Billy's vaguely bemused grin dropped and his eyes went wide, pupils suddenly pooling.

Dom let him go, dropping his eyes as he thumbed the remaining frosting from his lips and picked up the knife again, just as Orlando (back and stuffing the carrots into his mouth) and several other people starting congesting the doorway. Dom's heart thumped hard, plating a corner slice and pushing it at into Billy's hands, "Corners have the most frosting. Since you like it so much."

.

Billy smiled nervously, vaguely noticing the other people milling about the kitchen. Dom's expression went tight—protected—as he sliced and handed off pieces of cake like a pro. Billy held his own plate dumbly, his finger still dangling wet with the others at his side. 

It wasn't anything serious, or at least it shouldn't have been. Dom had nearly had his tongue in his mouth more times than he could have counted already. But in the wake of the camping trip and his birthday gift and those dreams… it was an acceleration he just wasn't ready for, or wasn't drunk enough for, more like.

He plucked up the whiskey again and knocked back a good two fingers' worth as he retreated to the living room. He sank into the sofa with a grunt, pensive as he devoured half his piece of cake. Thoughts of drama school were suddenly swimming in his head. He barely even noticed Elijah curling up at his feet.

Lij was still buzzing with that same energy from before. "So has Dom proposed to you yet? I would have if you'd have done that for me."

Billy offered him a somewhat bashful smile. "He's repaying me in whiskey and chocolate." He indicated the bounty in his lap before offering Elijah the neck of the bottle, which he took, of course.

Elijah looked thoughtfully at him for a long moment, on the verge of saying something but seemingly unable to. Billy raised his eyebrows, and finally, Elijah inhaled, pushing his plastic fork along the side of his cake, gathering frosting there. "It's just... pretty amazing. That you did that for him. You know?"

Billy's brow furrowed. There was a question underneath Elijah's words, in his tone, one he knew instinctively but tried his best to ignore. "Didn't take too long," he shrugged.

.

Dom served up slices until no one else came looking before taking a plate for himself. With the kitchen empty, he leaned his hands on the crumby counter and took a deep breath. He could hardly get the look on Billy's face out of his head, burned behind his eyelids like a polaroid.

He forked up a bit of that buttercream frosting, tasting sweet, yet lacking the distinctive salt he'd tasted before: Billy's skin. The very fact that he could pinpoint that under vanilla and sugar setting off alarms, how this was wrong, he shouldn't, he'd set this aside, remember? Taking his plate, he headed back out the archway to his party.

His eyes went Billy immediately, comfortable on the sofa and chatting with Elijah, whose face Dom couldn't see.

"A fool always finds one still more foolish to admire him," Viggo's voice, and then his hands curled over Dom's shoulders from behind, squeezing amicably.

"Oi," Dom grinned back. "I think we'd both object to that Viggoism."

"Not me, kid," Vig murmured close to his ear, looping his arm under Dom's chin in a faux headlock-like embrace. "Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux. French Poet known for satire."

"The irony here being...?" Dom asked. Viggo didn't answer, but merely tucked his chin over Dom's shoulder, his gaze on Billy and Elijah as well.

.

Shockingly, Elijah seemed satisfied with that reply, or maybe he just knew his curiosity wasn't going to get him anywhere. He pillowed his cheek on Billy's knee, still shoveling big bites of cake into his mouth. "I really liked the one you wrote. What was that about?"

Billy filled his own mouth with more cake. "Ehm. 'S sort of two songs that I'm trying to push together. One's about someone I went to school with," he admitted heavily, just as his eyes caught on Dom and Viggo in the archway. "The other's a bit more current." 

Dom turned his head, elongating the milky tendon in his neck to brush a soft kiss against Viggo's mouth, like shaking hands for the two of them, making something ugly and familiar uncurl in the pit of Billy's stomach.

Elijah followed his gaze, lifting his head from Billy's knee to watch, and Billy swore he could see that same ugly thing in the twitch of his mouth. Billy slid his fingers into Elijah's hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

.

Dom turned his head, studying Viggo's profile, pressed a chocolately kiss on his mouth when he tilted a little to look back. "Thank you for the paint set. How did you know I paint sometimes?"

"You mentioned it. I remembered," Viggo answered simply.

"I don't remember that."

Viggo's hand came up to ruffle his hair, "You were stoned at the time, hobbit. Enjoy this time, and everything in it."

The king moved off, speaking to others with his usual grace. Dom searched his mind for the night in question, some long evening spent at Viggo's with plenty of drink and weed. Dom remembered watching some film that may have been porn or an art piece, or possibly both. But he didn't remember mentioning painting. Hell, it had been quite a while, years, since he'd thought to paint at all.

He scraped up the rest of the frosting and crumbs from his plate and tossed it, making his way to the sofa, finding Billy folded up with Elijah's head on his legs clutching the Scotch.

Dom sat on the floor, knelt between the couch and the coffee table, pillowing his head close to Billy's thigh. "Give me that," he wrested the bottle from Elijah's grip, looking up at Billy from this vantage as he tipped it to his lips.

.

Billy looked down at him, expelling a huge puff of air from between his lips. 

Elijah made a tight noise in his throat as he rose awkwardly to his feet. "I want tequila." 

Billy reluctantly lifted his eyes from Dom's to watch the slump of his shoulders as he made his way over to Viggo, presiding over a small throng in the corner. He looked back down at Dom, his eyes large, grey, and gorgeous in the low light from the table lamp. Gorgeous. It was incredible, how easily those words had been coming lately—there'd been no more fight left to stop them. 

He thumbed an errant bit of frosting off his plate and slid it past his lips, rolling it around on his tongue. "Have you come for another fingerlick, then? 'M out of frosting, I'm afraid."

.

Dom watched Billy swirl the chocolate around in his mouth, wondering what would happen if he climbed up and snogged him to chase it. Everyone else would laugh, certainly, but Dom would know what he meant by it and he suspected Billy might catch the hint as well. But chances were that he'd write it off as Dom being drunk, or at least subtly tell him to fuck right off, and that wasn't a place he wanted to go with this, that awkward strain of a friendship gone awry. 

Still, Dom could remember lying together months ago, right on this sofa, Billy happy to hold him in his grief, comfort him, even sleep with him. 

He closed his eyes, confused and a bit tipsy, the party moving around him, and half wished everyone else would disappear. Opening them again, he held up the bottle, "Look. You brought me good whiskey and you and Lij already drank a third of it."

.

"Was all part of my master plan," Billy quipped. "Not the part about Elijah—he was a sneaky bastard." He wrested the bottle from Dom's hand, his palm warm against Billy's knuckles, and took another swig for good measure, swearing he could taste the warmth from Dom's mouth still lingering there. Dom's eyes were slitted. "My last one, I promise." He held it back out by the neck. "All yours," he said with a soft smile, watching with more than a little amusement as Dom tipped two or three gulps back.

Billy watched as he closed his eyes and pillowed his face on his thigh again, a troubled pinch to his brow. The maelstrom of feelings thundering in Billy's chest scattered, making room for a pure, unadulterated concern that few but Dom had the power to bring out in him, he was finding. Billy reached down to push the hair off his forehead, the movement of his palm and fingers much different than it had been with Elijah. "Y'alright?"

.

"Mmm," Dom hummed, rubbing his temple against the texture of Billy's denims, his heart giving a flutter at the slow, warm feeling of Billy's fingers combing through his hair, the same way they had that day, soothing the hurt of losing a family member and being so far from home. There'd been no card from Gran this year. "Just thinking of home."

He gave a sigh and got up, setting the bottle on the coffee table and picking up Billy's guitar from where it was propped on the arm of the sofa and settling where Elijah had been. Throwing him a sidelong smile both meant to appease and remember his present, he strummed it a little bit himself, though he wasn't good for more than a few simple chords. Still, he mimed an imaginary whammy bar like a rockstar, pursing his lips out, just to get Billy to roll his eyes at him.

.

Billy giggled despite himself. He finally took note of all the people still milling about, how Dom wasn't interested in any of them now that he was here. It made him feel smug and possessive. 

He scooted forward and reached down, setting Dom's fingers in just the right way for a fuller, richer sound. Dom strummed and smiled, humming at the note they'd made together. 

Billy craved closeness again; since that camping trip, he hadn't been able to stop craving it. And with the whiskey quick to warm his belly, he didn't really care who was there, who would see. Actually, it was the crowd that made it okay. Without them, he'd probably have bolted the second Dom had pulled his finger into his mouth.

He cocked his head, forcing Dom to meet his eyes. "D'you want a birthday lesson, then?"

.

"Yeah?" Dom actually felt himself brighten at that offer, the very idea that Billy would teach him something musical, and not for a misplaced promise on a campfire game either. That Billy would teach him anything he knew, really. It was a huge part of what made him so fascinating, the wide array of talents he had seemingly been born with.

Billy scooted even closer, tugging the guitar into a more correct position over his thigh, one hand sweeping down Dom's spine to the small of his back, straightening and engaging him forward rather than the sofa sprawl of before. He moved to the other side, tucking one knee a bit behind Dom on the cushions as he put a hand over Dom's on the fretboard. 

Dom couldn't help but notice that, despite their seemingly dainty nature, Billy's hands were not really so much smaller than Dom's own, it was another illusion of his compact stature. And as he hovered so close to Dom's shoulder, his profile was easily as intriguing, beyond how common his features were: his eyebrows fair and fine, the barely there freckling, and his sweet, curved mouth as he instructed.

.

Dom had been drinking more than he let on, Billy realized, the scent emanating from his pores, a hazy glow lighting him like a halo from this close. Underneath that, though, his own scent still lingered, something musky and masculine that filled his clothes and the spaces he occupied, never overpowering but utterly recognizable to Billy, who spent so much time with him that he often didn't realize it was there until they parted.

This wasn't a proper lesson—Billy didn't have the patience for that, Dom didn't really need the basics, and his pleasantly buzzed brain had no problem admitting that it was all just an excuse to be close and cop touches anyway. Dom gladly let himself be handled, though the posture Billy'd enforced quickly waned, much to Billy's amusement.

It was a cheap move, the guitar lesson, Billy admitted, one he'd used on women too many times to count. But like most things, it felt different with Dom, something inevitable and helpless to his own protests.

Billy matched their hands up over the neck of the guitar as much as he could, a deep thrill going through him as Dom's long, tapered fingers went still underneath his own. It had amazed him since day one, just how open Dom was to things, anything, really, and it wasn't just youth that was on his side; he was just excited by life and all that it had to offer, in a way that Billy was sure he never was, maybe not even as a kid.

It was slightly awkward, as always, strumming like this, but Billy managed to guide Dom through a bit of "Yesterday," something he often used to warm up. A quiet smile overcame Dom's face the moment he recognized it. Billy sang the words under his breath, laughing a little when he'd almost forgotten them with the slow pace of their playing.

.

Dom's heart was pounding. Billy's hands pressed over his own, and his mouth whisper-sang the words very nearly in his ear, the moment very quiet and utterly personal. After a moment, Billy slid his hands away as he suggested Dom try the melody on his own, but only partially, one still on his forearm and the other lit warm on his waist, like it had been in the kitchen. Dom tried it, fumbling the chords a bit when Billy's thumb stroked slowly up and down on his side, a move hidden and yet so intimate.

"Dom," a hand dropped on his shoulder, and he startled, looking up into Phillippa's bright face, with her purse over her shoulder, "I'm off. Happy birthday, you." She ruffled his hair, something a lot of people were doing now that it wasn't so short anymore. "Billy, you be sure to keep an eye on him tonight, hmm?"

.

"Both eyes," Billy amended, not bothering to take them off of Dom as he did so.

Dom colored a bit at that, ducking his head down further as his brow hardened in concentration, his fingers moving and strumming lightly over the strings. Billy inhaled, his heart set off as Phillippa walked away, leaving them. Words that only weeks ago would have spurred shoves, tickles, and laughter suddenly yielded seemingly interminable stretches of silence of that enticingly awkward variety.

He thought suddenly of his time here before Dom's arrival, his heart dropping. He couldn't imagine what this all would have been like without him. 

Dom turned questioning eyes to him, his hands stilling.

Billy shook his head at himself, breathing the beginning of a laugh. "'M glad you're here," he explained, the familiar words igniting something low in his stomach. Dom licked his lips, his eyes flickering, and Billy knew he remembered them too. They'd never talked about the two girls, come to think of it, since that night.

Billy grabbed the guitar by the neck, gently extracting it from Dom's grip, and propped it up against the coffee table next to him, then wrapped his both arms around Dom's waist, pulling him to the back of the couch and nuzzling his face into his arm. He hesitated before murmuring, "Any prospects for tonight?," a familiar question between the two of them that, like everything else, felt somehow changed.

.

For the first time, being asked that question felt like something it wasn't. If he didn't know any better, it was almost as if Billy was directly issuing an invitation, right on top of having just given Dom everything else he had tonight. He was close, so close, his eyes warm and he smelled amazing, Dom noticed yet again, that spicy, earthy smell of his after shave and him beneath it.

He barely remembered that night, the night they'd pulled those two girls, friends, Dom's feisty and inked and Billy's the "good girl". That had been been the first time he'd spent a night wondering how Billy treated women, getting to see the way he danced with them in the clubs, the way he touched with them, the way he kissed them, the way he got them to go home with him where he'd do things Dom only imagined with his hand on his cock under the covers in the dark, secretly wanking off to thoughts of his best friend and not wanting to admit it to himself.

He pulled up, out of Billy's grip a bit—and it didn't go unnoticed that Billy's fingers still clung to his shirt—reaching for the whiskey from the coffee table again to take a swig. There needed to be a lot more drink. His eyes cast about the crowd, landing back on Liv again, always a fallback. Sweet as candy, Liv was, and while she'd never one given any of them the impression they're advances were being dismissed, not one of them had had her. It was a running tease these days between the hobbits and Orli, and Dom had the idea she knew all about it and played her hand. "Maybe."

.

Billy followed Dom's gaze across the room. He huffed out an incredulous breath. "What, Liv? You're off your nut," he was a bit too quick to protest.

In that moment, he wasn't sure where to direct his jealousy at the prospect of that scenario; he'd made it no secret to anyone, even Liv, just how enchanting and goddess-like he found her, and Dom, well, the words for that couldn't seem to ever stay on his tongue long enough for it to be known, though he suspected a couple of their older cast mates could've written a treatise on it by then.

He splayed his fingers wider and firmer against Dom's side and abdomen and propped his head on his shoulder, murmuring what amounted to both a challenge and a flirtation into his ear: "How are you going t'manage that?"

.

"'S my birthday," Dom responded, tilting the bottle to his lips again. Of course, his chances there weren't any better than they'd ever been, but that had never stopped him before. And Billy hadn't stopped egging him on just to watch him fail either. He'd just never done it with his hands grasping at Dom's body in a way that Dom wanted, badly, to interpret as possessive. "Can try to pull whoever I want."

He turned his head, finding Billy's eyes inches away, answering that dare with one of his own. He could feel that low grade hum in the air, that crackling thing that had snapped and sparked between so often since that camping trip and Christ, he wished Billy would do something, either make a fucking move already or get his hands off him, but he didn't. He just stared back, his hands burning through Dom's shirt. 

Dom let go the breath he was holding and tightened his fingers around the bottle of fine scotch Billy'd given him, seeing as that seemed like all he was going to get from him. He pulled away, off the sofa, and headed over to Liv. 

.

Billy straightened on the couch, feeling stupid and juvenile with his hands suddenly empty. He wished he hadn't surrendered Dom's whiskey gift to him.

Across the room, Dom lighted a hand on the small of Liv's back, and she welcomed him into a small circle of people with a long arm around his shoulders. 

"Fuck," Billy breathed before he even knew what he was saying. His eyes darted wildly, seeking distraction or escape, both eventually coming in the form of Orli and Elijah on either side of him, Elijah hopping over the back of the couch and cuddling up to him and Orlando slinking backwards so his shoulders pressed into the cushion beside him. "Hi," Billy laughed, intensely grateful for the company.

"Hi," Orlando drawled, palming his tum as his shirt rode up. "We have tequila," he stage whispered.

"We're gonna finish it out back, come on," Elijah giggled, encircling his bicep with his hands and tugging.

"Right," Billy grunted, already halfway out of his seat.

"Bring your guitar," Elijah hissed excitedly, eyeing it by Orli's head.

.

Dom folded himself into Liv's group and her warmth and her perfume (much different smell than Billy, flowery and citrusy and definitely girly), only half-following their conversation. He wasn't irritated, exactly. Billy'd arrived and essentially taken the party up a notch, and then another when he sang to him and gave him a guitar lesson all in the span of the half hour. Dom couldn't be angry at him. Not really.

But there was some fucking thing going on, and Dom recognized it, and five or so years ago he probably would have had the stones to act on it and see where it went, but not now. Now all the flirting and the innuendo and the looks should have meant what he thought they meant, but they didn't. Not with these people, not all the full body hugs and the mock-humping and the snogging (and there was a fucking lot of snogging). They all did it. None of them meant it. Especially not Billy.

He couldn't even bring himself to follow through with his intentions in coming over here, not when Liv had begun talking about her boyfriend's band, the boyfriend all of them pretended emphatically didn't exist so they could all continue trying to pull the hottest woman on set. But Billy was under his skin with those copper hot eyes and the way they lingered on Dom's lips, prickling and prickling and driving Dom fucking mad as he tried not to watch him follow Elijah and Orlando out the sliding glass door to the lawn and taking the guitar with him, the one he'd used to touch Dom as much as could be seen and thought innocent by everyone else.

Dom tipped the bottle to his lips and pulled in several long swallows, letting it pool and burn in his gut. Couldn't, shouldn't, won't.

.

In the wake of that uncomfortable moment with Dom on the couch, Billy was feeling a bit tetchy and withdrawn, taking a seat on the lawn and strumming idly at his guitar as Elijah and Orlando drank, giggled, spun in circles, and generally acted their age.

"Free Bird!" Elijah shouted before tumbling spectacularly to the ground, leaving Orlando tipping the bottle of Cuervo to his mouth under the moonlight.

Billy squirmed around, getting comfortable, or as comfortable as he could, his spine lining up with the wood banister. He closed his eyes, his fingers moving instinctually as he recalled the feel of Dom's lips wrapped snug and wet around one of them, his tongue coating his skin with saliva. He inhaled through his nostrils, his head thunking back against the wood.

He heard the rustle of grass near his feet and opened his eyes into slits, finding Elijah curled up there like earlier. "Play us something," he insisted, fiddling with one of the cuffs of Billy's denims.

A playful smile tugged at Billy's lips as his fingers played of their own accord, the familiar tune setting Elijah off. He tumbled backward, clutching his stomach. "Yes!"

"What?" Orlando tilted his head, trying to pick out the tune, to no avail.

" _Even in my heart, I see... you're not being true to me…_ " Elijah's laughter turned to a breathless cackle, making Billy stumble a bit on his way to the chorus. " _Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, impossible as it may seem…_ "

"Oh, 's that Take That? It is, yeah?" Orlando slurred.

Elijah slapped both hands to his face, shaking his head furiously as he exploded in peals of laughter.

.

The slim hand around his shoulder deftly snuck up and tugged the shell of Dom's ear, and echo of Viggo's traditions from earlier, and in the other on the opposite side, a strawberry sweet voice spoke, "You're quiet."

"Mmm," Dom hummed, closing his eyes to better absorb what Liv could do with her voice, usually so airy and soft and girly, she could drop it low and secretive and caramely if she wanted. "Just listening, love," he answered.

"You and Elijah would like the music scene in New York, you know? Royston loves it," she said, carrying on as though she thought he was interested. Dom didn't even like Spacehog all that much, although he'd never tell her that.

"We'll have to go see him play, after all this," he said, though he couldn't really think that far ahead. It wasn't even Christmas yet, and there would be another before he could act on that proposition. He glanced down and considered the half-empty bottle in his hand. Chances were he wouldn't even remember that offer by tomorrow.

But his hearing perked outside of the conversation at hand, out the sliding door Billy'd left open, whether by accident or the fact that it was virtually the same muggy temperature inside as it was out, even at night.

He could hear Billy singing again, singing outside, not for him, but for them, singing something that had Elijah cackling like a maniac, his laughter recognizable from miles off.

Won't, he thought firmly, and turned to nuzzle his nose into the cascading loveliness of Liv's hair tumbling over her shoulder.

.

Billy's voice remained hushed, trailing off as Elijah quickly got distracted by something Orlando was doing, his fingers swiftly moving into something of his own, trying to work out a tune that'd been eluding him for weeks.

He closed his eyes again, picturing Dom's mouth curling as he drawled silly jokes into Liv's ear, his big hand warm against her back. He let out a frustrated little growl from the back of his throat. It amazed him, how difficult a time he was having nailing down a turning point, when exactly he'd gone from curiosity and a vague, occasionally prickling lust, to being thoroughly unable to keep his hands off of him, to feeling like he'd laid claim to him, that Dom was his for the taking and no one else's. It was alarming.

It'd been so long since he'd been with a guy, he'd considered that he was done with that part of his life, that it'd only been momentary madness brought on by hormones and confined green rooms. 

Some yards away, Orlando dropped into the grass, a bit winded from his exertions, and pillowed his head on Elijah's thigh. Billy tightened his fingers against the strings, suddenly feeling old—not as old as that night at the club, but older than his two friends. He withdrew into his own world, lifting his voice as if they weren't there.

.

The conversation turned, and then turned again without Dom actively participating, simply nursing his bottle of whiskey and attempting to distract himself in Liv, in the feel of her back beneath her thin silky top, the ends of her long hair brushing his skin, her scent, the profile of her mouth when she spoke and when she smiled. These were all things Dom coveted, of course, things he'd wanted to touch and explore since well before he inexplicably found himself meeting her in person. Hell, since he was eighteen and had gone to see Empire Records a half a dozen times. Strange, that at that time in his life, he'd been fully intent on exploring whatever direction his cock pointed in, like a compass without any real true north.

Elijah had gone quiet outside. Dom's hand slid away from Liv and he moved, almost drawn towards the open door, leaning on its threshold. Between outside and in, he could sense a tiny change in temperature, the slightest breeze making it feel that little bit cooler, but the heat still bringing up the deep smell of the earth under the grass. A sleepy, masculine aroma he recognized and associated with the man in front of him, sat with his back to the support post of the little patio, strumming the guitar, his voice rich and clear as a church bell, even held back in quiet.

Dom sighed, tipping his forehead to the frame of the door and listened, feeling it tug at him, that electric pull. His prickly mood was dissipating as fast as it had come on, leaving him feeling guilty and aching, wanting Billy's attention all over again. All the shouldn'ts and couldn'ts and won'ts warred in his head with that singular, spark of want that just wouldn't burn out. Like relighting birthday candles, he thought, laughing at himself under his breath.

.

Billy could instantly tell when Dom had neared again, lingering by the back door and making the hair on the back of his neck shift. He valiantly pretended not to notice, and Elijah and Orlando couldn't be arsed to notice anything, in their collective state, blissed out and staring up at the stars.

Billy's voice tapered off, his fingers going suddenly timid for a moment, and then strumming clear again, slow, and sensual. " _I put a spell on you…_ " he began, in that casual and completely uncasual way he'd perfected over the years. " _'Cause you're mine…_ " 

These lyrics from his mouth always sounded a bit silly to his own ears, and, he assumed, to others' as well; he was so used to hearing it in Nina Simone's sleepy drawl. But Elijah hummed in approval, shifting against Orli as he played.

.

" _I can't stand the things you do... No I ain't lyon'._ "

Dom's eyes dropped closed as he listened, wondering if Billy was just singing. Just singing whatever happened to pop into his head, any given song, or if he'd thought about it, if, like the medley he'd put together earlier, if this was significant somehow.

" _I don't care if you don't want me, 'cause I'm yours, yours, yours, anyhow._ "

Dom exhaled, shaking his head, trying to shake that ludicrous notion right out of it. He glanced down and eyeballed the bottle still grasped in his hand by the neck; less than a quarter left now. His mouth was starting to take on that silly numb feeling, his limbs loose and warm. Over-warm, really.

He stumbled down the small half step and a few strides more to bring himself level with Billy, still strumming, but no more words. He sat down, folding his legs akimbo and blinking at the tumble that was Elijah and Orli on the grass, passing a Cuervo bottle between themselves. He looked up at the stars, and they swam a little, little trails of light on a velvet background. He brought the bottle back to his lips, took a pull, and then held it out to Billy, almost in a gesture of truce, though he had no fucking clue if whatever that was back on the couch had been a fight in the first place.

.

Billy's eyes flicked down to the bottle, cradled in the elegant strength of Dom's grip, and he smiled. His fingers stopped suddenly, one of his own hands reaching out with some trepidation. He brought the neck of the bottle to his lips, tasting Dom's warmth there again and licking it from his mouth as he handed it back to him.

Dom had gone sort of eerily quiet, pensive, his eyes alternately wandering and focusing. Billy smiled wide, watching him. "Bit pissed now, aren't you, Dommie?"

Elijah lifted his head from Orlando's stomach. "Dommie!" he shouted, finally noticing him for the first time, holding his arms out in a poor excuse for an air-hug.

"What, no luck with Liv?" Billy asked wide-eyed, feigning shock.

.

Dom snorted lowly at that, avoiding a response altogether. Billy didn't need to know he hadn't even bothered to to try. Truthfully, Dom hadn't pulled anyone, much less Liv, in nearly a month. He'd exhausted possibilities among the crew in the first few weeks anyhow, so Billy's idea of prospects tonight was unlikely. Unless they went out, but as Billy'd already observed Dom was already fairly soused.

Maybe another night. Maybe he and Billy could go out and find another set of friends. Maybe next time that happened, he could come up with a good excuse for why they ought to end up at the same house. And he'd have to be less pissed than this to accomplish such a feat. That was something few people realized, as impulsive as they all took him to be. Just occasionally, Dom made plans. They might be vague, and he might arrive at their end in a roundabout way, but as many times as he'd fantasized about watching Billy with a girl, he couldn't help but wonder if he could make it happen.

" _Il gran rifiuto_ ," Orlando mumbled from his sprawl.

"'The fuck?" Dom huffed a laugh, shaking his head and looking back to Billy in shock, "Why does it take so much alcohol to get Orlando like this?"

"S' Dante," Orlando murmured, slitted eyes glittering as he petted Elijah head propped on his tum.

.

Dom shot Billy another look, and Billy pursed his lips, impressed. "Just like I said, smarter than he looks." And that little remark gave Dom pause, that mutual recognition sparking between the two of them, another reminder of the camping trip.

Billy watched the buzzed clench-release of Dom's hands, the wet slackness of his mouth, the bleary navy of his eyes. He was preoccupied—could never get it past Billy when he was—but still managed to look relaxed, cocky, even. 

"Finish that," Billy urged, tapping two fingernails against the underside of the whiskey bottle until Dom brought it obediently up to his mouth. "Go on, go on, go on," he chanted lowly, nearly under his breath, until all the liquid disappeared past Dom's lips and down his throat.

They'd all been wasteful, hadn't taken the time to really enjoy it, but part of Billy hadn't wanted Dom to be conservative with it. Part of him, a big part, had been hoping to get him here, loose and full of smoky flavor. He hadn't thought about what he hoped for beyond that, though his fuzzy subconscious screamed for a wet, wicked tongue curled around his, hot breath, and hard hips pushing up against his own from underneath. There was a flash of the two of them in the grass, much like Orlando and Elijah, only Dom with his shirt hiked up just under his chest, tilting his head back as Billy got a taste of that hair underneath his navel.

Billy's face grew hot. He readjusted his guitar in his lap and concentrated on playing again in the name of distraction.

.

Dom licked the last of the whiskey from his lips—likes your mouth, his mind supplied in Orlando's voice; Orlando, who in this state of mind could see things he never noticed otherwise. About Billy. About him and Billy.

He spun his arse off the cement of the patio and into the grass, flopping on his back to face Billy, propping his own head up on Elijah's thigh to watch Billy's fingers on the strings. He was still closest, his knee bumping Billy's, but Elijah's hand falling into his hair and staying there. The light from the party inside fell on Dom's face, backlighting Billy and making his hair glow. His party was winding down inside, people probably leaving at will. A part of him considered whether he ought to be in there being a gracious host and recipient. But fuck it, these were the people whose company meant the most.

He considered that plan, and whether or not it could work. It would have to keep until next weekend anyhow, with their schedule that would likely be the next time they could go out. But he wondered. As much as they'd talked about dirty things, would Billy be up for it? Even enough to fuck in the same room? Dom's fingers twitched on his belt at the idea.

"What is that?" he murmured, nudging Billy's leg with his own, lifting his chin to the guitar as Billy played. "Is that something you wrote too?"

.

Billy cleared his throat, trying to ignore the alternate sprawl-together of Dom's legs, his knees splaying wide and then coming together in the middle to knock against each other. What he loved even more than the time he and Dom spent alone, were moments like this, when they weren't but it still felt like they were. Dom didn't even really seem to notice Elijah's fingers combing gently through his hair at the root.

Still, Billy felt bashful. "Yeah." He didn't crave the attention, not when it came to his music, and anyway, it was Dom's night. But Dom had always been supportive, more than, almost to the point of idolatry, which was something Billy found hard to admit, and had refused until several cast and crew members had pointed it out to him in one way or another.

Dom's eyes twinkled with moonlight and curiosity. "I'll tell you about it some other time," Billy assured, making him pout in a way that shouldn't have been so enticing.

Billy lifted the leg closest to Dom and let his foot come down into the grass on the other side of Dom's thigh, trapping it, squeezing it playfully between the back of his own thigh and calf. "I've got you now. You're not going anywhere. You're going to have to listen to me play the guitar for the rest of your life."

.

"Alright," Dom grinned, closing his eyes. "This will make having a piss and showering interesting, though." No filter again, and Dom felt his ears fire up even as Elijah cackled and grabbed the one closest. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to face whatever look he'd get from Billy for that.

It made him that much more aware of Billy though, Billy's warm leg, the hair on his calf rubbing against Dom's own below the fabric of their cargo shorts. And it did trap one limb down fast against grass and cement, slightly uncomfortable, but not. Suddenly he was reminded of one of those first days in fight training, when they'd all been fucking around, typical young men testing out their machismo on each other. Billy had thrown Dom down on the mats in an admittedly provoked demonstration of his crazy Jeet Kun Do skills, caught him face down and pinned him fast. Dom had been nearly instantly hard, stunned and red-faced, and not only had to plead for mercy but sit there with with his knees up for awhile to salvage his dignity. No one had noticed that day, but Dom rather doubted Billy wouldn't see at the range, and at this angle. 

He gnawed his lip, swatting at Elijah's hand on his ear and kept his eyes shut, trying to turn his thoughts elsewhere, to Winston Churchill and riding the subway next to bag ladies. Not the way Billy's neat fingers lit on his ankle. The same one that he'd twisted out in the woods that night.

"'S Italian," Orlando supplied, apparently to anyone still following his train of thought.

"Shut up," Elijah said, pushing his fingers against Dom's scalp again.

.

Billy watched the three of them, still holding fast to his guitar, both wanting to sprawl in the pile with them and fighting it at the same time. Dom eventually made the decision for him, though, bending his leg at the knee with a wicked gleam in his eye, pulling him down by the leg.

"My guitar," he protested through laughter, holding it as high above the ground as he could, out of harm's way. He managed to set it gently aside even while ending up in an identical heap next to Dom, their legs entwined. They looked at each other seriously for a moment, Billy's fingers twitching in the grass next to his face, making it rustle loud in his ear. He suddenly felt in character then, even out of costume.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the ground underneath him and not the feel of Dom's warm limbs pressed against his. Just when he was starting to drift off, Elijah piped up. "Hey, let's play a game."

Billy groaned, thinking of Dom's tongue in Elijah's mouth in front of the fire.

"What game?" Orlando drawled, half-asleep too.

"Who would you rather fuck?"

Dom shifted, and Billy shifted with him as a result.

.

Groaning inwardly, Dom wished there was more whiskey. Although he was already pretty fried, more drink was liable to make this situation worse. Or better? He took a huge breath and resisted the idea of curling up into Billy like he had in the woods, keeping his hands on the hem of his own shirt.

"Liv Tyler," Orlando said promptly. Three seconds passed before he abruptly jerked up a bit to see if she'd heard that, jostling Elijah, which in turn jostled the rest of them into laughing at him.

"He said who would you rather, not who you want to right now, cunt," Dom supplied with his eyes on the still open door. Liv wasn't in sight through it, but Viggo was gesturing and nodding among his group some ways in the living room. He nudged his leg against Billy's, wondering just how loose Orli's tongue was at the moment. "Liv or Viggo?"

.

Billy smiled and nudged Dom back, feeling a sheen start to pool between their skin.

Orlando shifted uncomfortably, and they all felt it. "Aw, fuck off, guys."

"Come on," Billy urged gently, tipping his head back to give him the Pippin eyes. "Whatever we say here stays here. Alright, Elijah?" he turned to him mock-sternly. In his drunken, sleepy state, Elijah didn't quite get the joke. 

"Hey! I wouldn't—" He stopped himself before they all had the chance to laugh in his face. "Liv or Viggo. Come on. I pick Liv. Viggo scares me a little too much."

"Yeah," Billy agreed, though his mind couldn't help but supply some filthy, sweaty images of the King plundering his land, as it were, throwing a log onto the slow-burning fire in the pit of his stomach. He tried not to show any shred of the eagerness with which he waited for Dom's reply. The actual answer didn't matter so much as how he handled the question, though, Billy admitted, a game like this wasn't likely to be reliable for candor.

.

"I don't know," Dom shrugged, grinning playfully, "Vig's a good kisser, it stands to reason he might be decent in the sack. And the only person Liv's kissed so far on this thing is him, and he isn't talking. Bastard."

Elijah's hand in Dom's hair ruffled, "You would. You'd probably bang anything that moves."

"I would not," Dom countered, careful not to look at Billy as he sniffed haughtily, "I have very particular tastes."

"But you'd fuck Viggo over Liv?" Elijah asked speculatively.

"'S not would I said. I was merely offering a basis of comparison," Dom said, feeling Billy's silent laughter beside him, "For Orlando's sake. He's being awfully mum over there."

.

Billy didn't hold back an eyeroll, thinking of some of the girls Dom had brought home over the past couple of months. He hadn't seemed so particular that night at the club—then again, to be fair, Billy hadn't either.

"Um," Orlando piped up, sounding young. Billy could practically hear him fidgeting. They all fell silent, waiting on his reply with bated breath. "Liv," he said quietly, completely incapable of conviction. "Definitely Liv."

Billy eyed Viggo through the open doorway, wondering if he had an inkling of an idea about Orlando, even as perceptive as he was.

"I've got one," Orlando said loudly, plowing ahead. "Dom or Billy?"

"What's the difference?" Elijah snorted, though Billy noticed him stiffen underneath Dom.

Billy surged forward and clamped a hand over Dom's mouth before he could say, "About three inches in both directions." "I object to this question," Billy declared.

"I pick Billy," Orlando said brightly, pursing his mouth in an air kiss.

"I take back my objection," Billy smiled, giving Dom's cheek a departing pat before dropping it back to the ground between them.

.

"This is a trick question," Dom's eyes fell closed as he smiled. "I can't technically fuck myself, ergo I have to go with the only available option and pick Billy."

"Because you'd pick yourself otherwise?" Elijah laughed, "Careful with your ego there, Dommie, this is a small country."

"Dom would pick Billy anyway," Orlando commented. 

The silence following that little statement was a little too deafening. Dom felt acutely aware of the way Billy went very still next to him, their legs still in a tumble, Billy's upper arm pressed against Dom's side, his head pillowed on Dom's own bicep. It would be in their usual friendly manner but for the topic of conversation.

Elijah's fingers were still petting absently through his hair too. "Still waiting on your answer to that, Lij," Dom murmured. "It's your game, reap it."

.

Billy could swear he'd never felt or seen Dom go so still; he'd never felt himself go so still, either. His heart pounded loud in his ears at Orlando's careless words. The way they were laying there, him suppliant with his cheek on Dom's arm and his eyes downcast, it was impossible to not envision a post-coital sprawl.

Those kisses came back into his mind, the ones his subconscious (and his memory—too many kisses) had created: Dom's lips, soft, perfect, and strong, moving possessively against his own. It seemed so impossible, so far from his reality, and yet sometimes, like now, he felt that a pinkie's push to either of them was all it would take. Ridiculous.

"Um," Elijah nearly squeaked, pulling Billy out of his head. He knew he couldn't—wouldn't—lie. "Dom," he muttered, and Billy colored on his behalf. "Sorry, Bill, you're too straight for me," he lifted his voice to explain.

.

Dom grabbed Elijah's hand from his hair and kissed his knuckles, stretching his neck to look back at him with a grin, "Knew you'd come around to me, Doodle. It was that night by the campfire, wasn't it? I felt it too. Against my hip."

"Fuck off," Elijah grumbled, pulling his hand away and looking fixedly up at the stars.

He chuckled wickedly, curling his other arm up enough not to dislodge Billy's head, but to pet his fingers through his hair a bit. He gave a deep, thoughtful breath. "So, let's see, Viggo is too scary for both the elf and the doe-eyed wonder, but one will take the man deemed too straight by the other. Interesting."

Dom's fingers gently pushed through the hair on the crown of Billy's head, testing its fine texture. Billy so often messed with Dom's hair in such a comforting way; he wondered if this had a similar effect, especially since Billy had yet to follow Dom's own logic that this question only had one answer. It was the idea of hearing that answer out loud that had him working to keep his mouth shut.

.

Dom lowered deceptively confident eyes to Billy, coaxing him with his timid fingers and anxious words. Billy cocked his head at him. "Can't fuck myself, can I? Try as I might." He reached up and tweaked his silly little nose, his tone betraying his words. "I suppose I'll have this filthy Manc, then."

.

"Hypothetically speaking, of course," Dom hooked Billy in a mock headlock for a moment. He inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling quite drunk now, that odd sensation that his body was moving when it couldn't be.

Someone cleared their throat from the door, and he felt them all look up as one. Dom grinned at the figure leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. "Look. 'S the Return of the King."

Viggo raised his eyebrows at all of them from above. "What an interesting conversation to walk into."

"I bet."

"You're missing your party," Viggo told him. "Quite a few people are heading out."

"Party's out here," Dom countered letting his head flop back on Elijah's thigh again, "There was cake and whiskey and I got spanked and Billy for my birthday. 'S good enough for me."

.

At that, Billy heaved himself forward, pushing his face into the groove of Dom's neck and wrapping an arm around his stomach, the other tugging at the material of Dom's shirt and brushing against the firm smoothness of blades of grass. He inhaled Dom's scent, overlain with the expensive whiskey, and his heart set off, beating against his ribcage. 

"We should all be so lucky," Viggo rumbled, nudging at Billy's heel with a bare toe.

Much as he loved Viggo, and the others too, Billy fiercely wished again that they would all go away.

He lifted his mouth to Dom's ear, wanting to make idle jokes about the two of them fucking each other but thoroughly unable to. 

"I'm gonna go, I think," Elijah announced, starting to maneuver out from underneath Dom's body.

.

Dom made a feeble attempt to keep Elijah there without really knowing why, grabbing for his hand and then the hem of his jeans. "But Lij, we've only just admitted our true feelings!" he joked with a lazy shit-eating grin.

Elijah stood above him for a minute, still looking a bit flushed and with an odd expression on his face. "You look like you've got your hands full."

He turned to the door, and Viggo halted him with a gentle hand, "Need a ride?"

"No," Elijah answered, "I'll just walk. Clear my head a little."

Viggo let him pass, still leaning against the post and looking over them again, before striding past and hauling Orlando to his feet. "Come on, Elf. Inside. Water."

"'S Liv still here?" Dom heard Orlando ask as Viggo guided him through the door, closing it behind them. He took a deep breath, feeling his ribcage lift Billy's arm with it, legs still twined, spooning on the grass. He watched the stars come in and out of focus in his vision. Theoretically, Billy was not nearly as drunk as Dom was. Dom had had a few beers by the time Billy had arrived, and most of that heady bottle of scotch after. Ordinarily Billy needed at least that much to reach the stage of clinging to Dom like a limpet. Billy's mouth right at his ear was a tickling hot tease at his nerves, as if he would speak secrets, but no words came. Dom's held breath came out a bit shakily. "Party's over, then, I s'pose."

.

Much as he'd wanted everyone gone, having that wish actually granted made Billy suddenly nervous. He lowered his head to Dom's chest and pushed out a heavy exhale there, one nearly as shaky as Dom's, creating tiny undulations in the material of his shirt. "Yeah."

He felt guilty about Elijah, too, like he'd somehow had a hand in him leaving.

Still, he had no intention of moving. He closed his eyes and spread his fingers at Dom's waist, feeling his persistent warmth. "Don't want to get up. 'S nice out here," he said, as if in explanation.

.

"Mmm," Dom agreed, suddenly aware of the wetas in the quiet. Even with the bright glow from his house through the door, knowing people were still around, he felt far away from the world. 

"Like camping," he murmured, rubbing a hand over Billy's neck. Their positions were almost exactly reversed from that night, Dom flat on his back and Billy curling around and against him in the grass. He breathed a laugh, his words ruffling Billy's hair. "Would it be weird if we set up hammocks in the garden?"

.

"Yeah," Billy said distractedly. He closed his eyes, trying to get himself to calm, impossible when recalling that buzz in the air between them in the woods, that same buzz that'd multiplied by about a hundred in the short time since and was making the air thick around them.

Billy felt Dom's heart thumping through his stomach—or was that the beat of his own pulse through his fingertips? 

"Y'didn't have candles tonight," he nearly whispered. "On the cakes. Did you get to make a wish?"

.

Dom huffed a laugh, opening his eyes, "Don't need candles. Look up, Bills," Billy didn't though, he simply stayed where he was, so Dom plunged on, "I think I've wished on most of those stars all my life to get to where I am right now."

That brought Billy's head up, sliding his hand up over Dom's heart to support his own chin, and Dom realized he had a wish after all. He wanted to kiss him. Any other time he might have, and it would be a laugh, but Dom didn't want it to be that sort of a kiss.

He dropped his head back and sighed. He was piss-arse drunk, and some sliver of reason was keeping him grounded. That or Billy was, nearly on top of him and holding him at bay, literally.

"Alright, get off me," Dom sighed, even though he brought both arms up to give Billy a squeeze. "Think I'm going to make everyone feck off." Billy pulled himself away abruptly at that. Too abruptly.

"Not you though," Dom amended as he sat up, looking Billy over. "You know you don't count."

.

And just like that, the buzz had died out, leaving their more common, utterly comfortable, I-love-you-but-in-a-strictly-heterosexual-way dynamic in its wake. Billy tried not to lament the momentary loss of it too openly. He was still Dom's favorite, after all.

He stood, brushing bits of grass and dirt from his cargos, noting a small green stain on the side of the leg that'd been rubbing against the ground. Dom moved ahead of him and through the back door quickly, in that way he had when he was pissed and on a mission.

Being back inside with the dwindling crowd, away from the stars, reminded Billy of Elijah. His eyes searched the rooms for him to no avail. Through the archway, he could see Dom standing authoritatively in the middle of the living room, trying to get everyone's attention.

.

"Alright, everyone!" Dom shouted, finally getting the attention of the people milling around his front room, "I like you all more than half as much as I did yesterday, but I know more than half of you don't have the day off tomorrow, like me." That got a groaned laugh. "Blame Billy for that little bastardization, I drank more than half of that bottle of whiskey he brought, enabling bastard. Anyway, thank you all. This is the best birthday short of the one next year, and you're all hereby allowed to leave without making me feel jilted."

That little speech got him applause, though as wobbly as he felt now that he was upright, he figured it was more out of politeness than anything else. He made the rounds, shaking hands, receiving hugs and kisses, noting that most people seem to take the hint and began to trickle out.

He moved for the kitchen, his mouth feeling dry, and pulled down a glass to fill from the tap. Orlando sat at the table with Viggo coaxing water into him, and Billy had another plate of finger food he was working steadily through. Dom downed a whole glass and refilled it, sitting with them. "So," he murmured with a grin, swiping a carrot form Billy's plate.

.

Billy smiled faintly as he reloaded a plate; Dom's speech had him feeling smug again. He hugged and kissed a few people with the free half of his body as they trickled out, but he was a bit too tired and tipsy and distracted to be diligent about it.

As host, Dom had to be, and Billy listened from the kitchen table as he charmed everyone left on their way out the door. "You'll thank me tomorrow," he vaguely heard Viggo mumble to his left, angling a wide glass of water up toward Orlando's mouth.

Billy cleared most of his plate in less than a minute. He was quickly getting to that point in the night where he had few things on his mind but food, sleep, and maybe a pull to take his mind (and his cock) off of his best friend. He smirked, watching Orlando obey Viggo from the corner of his eye. They had no way of knowing how the chips would fall, not one of them—maybe except Viggo or Ian, of course, but if they did, they were both keeping characteristically mum about it.

The front door shut, and Dom released a huge, happy sigh in the next room, smiling sweetly as he shuffled back into the kitchen and dropped into the chair next to Billy. Before Billy knew it, he had one of his carrots braced between his teeth, and, without missing a beat, Billy darted in, taking it back from him with his mouth. Dom groaned in protest, and Viggo and Orlando carried on without blinking. Just the Dom and Billy Show, nothing to see here.

"'M I going to have to put you to bed?" Billy asked warily. "Don't think I've forgotten some of those first nights."

.

Orlando gave a ridiculous delayed giggle, either at the carrot trick or Billy's insinuation, or maybe at something funny in his own soaked head, who knew. Dom pouted for a moment, watching Billy crunch up the carrot. "What would I do without you, Bills," he said, turning to grab a half-eaten piece of cake someone had left on the counter. He was on the point of forking a bit when Viggo took the fork from his hand and pointedly handed him a clean one from the packet of plastic forks.

"What would I do without you, Vig," Dom rephrased, grinning as he took a bite of chocolate and frosting.

"Get into even more trouble than typical, I'd wager," Viggo murmured, standing and beginning to consolidate containers of food together. "A hint, Dom. Women appreciate when you return their casserole dishes," he lifted the one containing Phillippa's food as he slid it into the fridge, "Preferably washed."

Dom looked affronted. "I know that." 

"In a timely manner," Viggo intoned, pulling the still giggly Orlando from his seat.

"Never have I ever... hey, Vig," Orlando mumbled, tipping his mohawked head to Viggo's neck, "Vig. Viggo. Gonna put me to bed? Like Billy'n'Dom?"

Viggo arched an eyebrow.

.

Billy's eyebrows shot up at that. Across the table, Dom shifted in his seat, holding a fist in front of his mouth to cover his chewing and the start of a laugh. His cheekbones were all flushed, his eyes glazed. 

"I will certainly be driving you home, Elf." Viggo gave the thicker part of Orlando's hair a rub. "Come on." He slung an arm around his waist, motioning for him to move with him. He leveled a look at Billy. "I trust you'll take care of the birthday boy." As always, there was more skittering underneath Viggo's words.

"Don't I always?" The words flew from Billy's mouth.

Dom slipped another bite of cake past his lips, clinging to the fork with his teeth.

Viggo simply shook both their hands, taking care not to upset his armful of Orlando.

Dom sucked some errant frosting off of his thumb as he stood, making to walk them out.

.

"Careful he doesn't spill any more tequila on himself, Vig," Dom leered.

Orlando pondered this for a moment, then brightened, "Hey yeah, remember? Vig, remember that time, in the place..."

"Bye," Dom laughed, closing the door on Viggo's half exasperated glare.

He made his way back to the kitchen, a longer trip than it should have been, and found Billy still at the table, eyeballing the last few bites of Dom's cake. "'S mine."

He stumbled to the fridge, still thirsty, and reached for the first bottle of beer he saw, but he didn't crack it, only leaned against the counter and pressed it to his cheek. Walking reminded him of how thoroughly pissed he was. "Time is it?"

.

Billy peered at the display on the stove. "Nearly half two. Fuck. Can't believe I'm awake. M'body's not made for this anymore." He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

He raised bemused eyes at Dom. "Y'alright?" He stood, lighting a hand on Dom's waist in silent request for him to move from the fridge. He rummaged around until he finally found an unopened, freezing cold bottle of water on the second shelf, in the back. He turned and handed it to Dom, gently prying the beer out of his hand and cracking it for himself. He never wanted to baby Dom—any of them for that matter—but he couldn't help feeling protective.

.

"Mmm," Dom hummed, uncapping the water and downing a third of it. "Warm."

Billy remained close, standing with one hand in his pocket and tipping the beer to his lips without taking his eyes off him. It was out of concern, Dom knew, but there was still some sort of heat there in Billy's eyes, like there was when he was singing, the times and the lines he purposefully flicked his gaze to Dom.

"Think your guitar's outside still," Dom murmured, moving past to pull the sliding door open again (it took three tries before he realized some bastard had locked it) and bent down to pick up the instrument. He couldn't quite make such a coordinated move, and tumbled into the grass beside the guitar again with a laugh. "M' quite drunk, Bills. Some smartarse gave me whiskey for my birthday. Knew I'd get good and pissed."

.

"I wonder who that was," Billy smiled quietly, taking his time making his way outside to join Dom. He tipped the neck of the beer bottle to his mouth and downed a good quarter of it while taking another look at the stars.

He lowered himself to the ground next to Dom and leaned back on his elbows, the two of them absorbing the new-found silence. It would be so unbelievably easy, he thought, so easy to just lean in and kiss Dom, like any of their other kisses, at least at first, then bring a hand up to his cheek, tilt his head and deepen it. All it would take was one second, a shift of about four or five inches. And yet, that message wouldn't make its way from his head to any other part of his body.

He took another, deep pull from his beer. "Poor Viggo. 'S probably beating Orlando off with a stick about now."

.

"Or, you know, just beating him off," Dom laughed lowly. He was fairly convinced Viggo would swing any way a situation warranted. 

He could feel Billy's eyes on him as they lay there, lingering far longer than necessary, as if Billy hadn't ever seen him before. He felt so at odds with himself, every thought followed with warnings of no, inappropriate, shouldn't. he remembered a party not at all unlike this, when he'd made a move on a mate he'd fancied. All that had been was a kiss that went too far. 

Christ, he needed to get laid. He cleared his throat, thinking of his plan. "We should go out next weekend, see if we can pull. 'S been awhile."

.

"Yeah," Billy breathed, feeling oddly hurt by the suggestion. His mind automatically went back to that night in October. He could still remember the look of the tattooed girl's nails against Dom's thigh, purple varnish against denim.

The silence stretched between them, a light breeze filling it, rattling some wind chimes in the distance. It all felt so familiar and yet so foreign, the sheer uncertainty, the nudging and testing, pushing all the way to the brink, just a small step before obvious. 

He glanced over at Dom and watched the shadow his eyelashes cast along his cheek. He tried to think of how this might have gone back in September, back when everything was fresh and new but there wasn't as much hope and expectation, not as much at stake. How did they talk then? Billy couldn't remember for the life of him.

"Think I'm for bed in a minute." He let it drop from his mouth into the night air.

.

"Mmhmm," Dom agreed, but remained sprawled with his eyes closed, feeling the drunken ease that could slip him into sleep from here very easily. But he fought to stay awake when he heard Billy shift and grunt a bit, picking up the guitar and going back through the door. He could hear him shuffling around in the house, probably putting his guitar in its case, picking up paper plates and cups for the rubbish bin, rinsing a few dishes in the kitchen.

Still he lay there in the grass, until he heard Billy return with a sigh that could have been amused or exasperated. But Dom had it in his head now. If Orlando got his bedtime story, then fuck if Dom wouldn't let Billy think he was just as pissed and unable to put himself to bed.

.

Billy walked around Dom, coming to a stop between his splayed knees and holding two hands out to him. "Come on." 

Dom's eyes opened into slits, confusion washing over him as he finally noticed that his bottle of water was gone (Billy'd put it back in the fridge after draining the rest of his beer). He reached up, laying both hands in Billy's, the two of them still for a few long moments, Billy unsure whether Dom would use his grip to pull himself up or to pull Billy down with him.

"Come on," Billy laughed, sounding suddenly exhausted to his own ears. "I love you, but'm not carrying you."

At that, Dom's eyes opened full, tired though they were, and he smiled sweetly before heaving himself up off the ground with a grunt, nearly slamming into Billy. Billy gripped his waist, holding him steady. "You'll thank me tomorrow," he echoed Viggo's words as he began ushering Dom back into the empty house. "Don't want you to have a headache and a backache in the morning."

As they walked through the kitchen, Dom stopped in his tracks, his limbs heavy and his face pinched. 

Billy broke into an amused smile. "Don't worry, I'll clean up and lock up later."

.

"I..." Dom tried, wondering if he was being cloying, or maybe just pathetically obvious. All the arguments he'd gone back and forth and back and forth and back and forth on, and at the end of the day, and the end of his day, after spending more hours with Billy than without him, he still just didn't want him to leave. "Are you going to go?"

Billy paused halfway down the hallway and looked at him, and Dom could swear there was something there. And then it was gone, as Billy looked away at a photo on the wall, down at his feet, up at the light, even as his strong arms held Dom upright.

"You can stay," Dom reiterated, "I... The guest room's always yours, you know." Billy still hesitated, and that just wasn't on. "I'll make breakfast in the morning. Good old hangover cure style," Dom offered with a half grin.

.

"Can't refuse that, can I?" Billy smiled, unspeakably touched at how preoccupied with that fact Dom seemed. When it came to him, Dom certainly had a possessive streak too.

One of Billy's hands pushed its way up into the soft hair at Dom's nape as he lumbered toward his bedroom. He pushed him down by the shoulders to sit at the edge of his bed and knelt at his feet, untying his trainers with care. As his fingers worked, he glanced up to see Dom's eyes fall closed again, and the intimacy of the moment was almost too much. He fumbled, getting one of Dom's shoelaces all tied up in a big knot.

"It scares me sometimes, how close we are." He spoke the words so quietly, he almost hoped Dom didn't hear them from above.

.

"Scares me too," Dom whispered, almost too quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, stupid drunk mouth. He could practically feel Billy freeze before he pull off one shoe and started on the other. He exhaled from his nose, gnawing at his lip in utter frustration. The memory of that similar party so many years ago kept popping up, when he'd snogged his mate just that little bit too seriously and a little too alone—losing said mate as a consequence—tugging his reason back in check. And at the same time, he reveled the feeling of Billy's fingers in his hair earlier, his neat, short nails gently scratching. Dom could not even remember the first time it had happened but knew he responded to like Pavlov's fucking dog every subsequent instance after. It calmed and comforted him, which Billy knew, and at the same time it drove him fucking mad, which Billy either didn't notice, or was too goddamned straight to realize was such a tease. Never mind that he was now messing with Dom's feet.

With a deep sigh, he flopped backward on the bed as Billy worked his other trainer off, hoping he'd just fucking climb on and give Dom an extra special birthday surprise. His head made it feel like he continued falling through the mattress and the floor and the earth. "'M really pissed, Bills," he muttered by way of apology. Or invitation, he wasn't even sure himself.

.

"I know," Billy said heavily, tugging at the hem of Dom's denims, knuckles brushing his ankle underneath. He lifted his head, peering at Dom from the edge of the bed, finding him laying prone with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, one arm flung above his head and the other flat on his stomach, and Christ, there was no way to deny what that did to him.

Billy stood and hunched over, taking advantage of Dom's fatigue to hover over him unnoticed. Just a few inches, he thought, it was just a matter of a few inches, and they'd be flush. He gasped as he nearly lost his balance, pressing a fist into the mattress next to Dom's shoulder to right himself.

Dom's eyes opened, bleary and beautiful, and Billy quickly moved to thumb at the charcoal shadow underneath one of them, as if that'd been his intention all along. "Go wash this off, you'll feel better." He pushed off the bed and turned to rummage through Dom's drawers for one of his bigger t-shirts, inhaling deeply. Even they tended to cling to his arms, wiry as Dom was in comparison—they both knew that—but he needed something to keep him from tearing off the one Dom was wearing.

He quickly gave up, easing the drawer shut and moving down the row of buttons at the front of his shirt with surprising efficiency. As he shrugged out of it, he turned, noticing Dom finally sitting up at the foot of the bed, shaking his head as if to clear it.

.

Dom sat up slowly, watching Billy go through the drawers. His heart had nearly done a back flip to find Billy hovering over him, touching his face, but it had turned out to be nothing. Just Billy being himself, minding Dom when he was too plowed to mind himself. Which, in hindsight, was exactly what Dom had wished for anyway, he'd failed to specify the oh! so necessary desire that yes, I'd also like for him to take advantage of me in a not entirely heterosexual way. He shook his stupid head at his stupid self. He needed to stop fucking thinking these things. Billy was straight. Dom was also straight. Mostly.

Billy turning to him with his shirt off was a cue for him to get up and go wash his face before he got entirely distracted by Billy's arms and pecs and soft looking chest hair. He stood up, and then stood still for a moment, being certain of his balance before striding into the bathroom and shoving a facecloth under the taps.

The wet cloth felt good, the texture scrubbing over his skin, the warm wet seeping in where the alcohol was evaporating moisture from his pores. He soaked it again, rung it a bit, and draped the whole thing over his face, leaning over the sink top on his hands with a tired noise from his throat.

.

Billy slowly approached the bathroom door with an amused smirk, a fresh shirt for Dom ready and hanging over his wrists.

Dom finally removed the cloth from his face, nearly jumping when he noticed him there.

Billy grimaced in apology, gesturing with the shirt. "Up," he said quietly, and Dom obeyed, lifting both arms tiredly over his head. Though very much the drunken birthday boy, there was something achingly sweet, innocent even, about the way he did it.

Billy gripped the shirt by the hem and lifted it up over Dom's torso, careful not to let his fingertips get stopped along the way by that loved, overheated skin. As he reappeared through the neck hole, Dom smiled, muttering thanks and gently taking the clean shirt from Billy.

The sheer emptiness of the guest room across the hall drew Billy's eye, utterly safe but nowhere near as inviting. Billy laid a hand where Dom's neck sloped down into his shoulder. "How d'you feel? Will you be sick, do you think?"

.

Dom coughed a bit, throat still parched with the whiskey was working through him as he shrugged, "Dunno. Just feel sort of... too warm." He draped the fresh shirt on the counter as he bent to drink from the faucet, wobbling and bumping his head on the medicine cabinet instead. "Ow," he laughed, trying again as Billy shook his head in the mirror, a hand on his bare shoulder to steady him. He took several cool gulps, feeling that hand move and rub on his upper back, feeling cool against his skin. Billy did this all the time, and it would have been matey if they weren't both half-dressed.

Righting himself carefully (minding the cabinet), Dom wet the cloth again and swiped at the eyeliner, firmly enough to pull most of it off. Honestly, he didn't know if he'd be sick. He was more or less upright on his own, always a decent sign, but with the buzz of the party wearing off, he felt like he was plunging through the layers faster than normal. If he got to sleep soon, maybe his stomach would let it slide this time.

He took up the clean shirt and tugged it on a little grudgingly. It was warm, and he'd much rather sleep naked, but he also hoped Billy wouldn't mind sleeping with him and not in the guest room. He'd done it before, of course, in the few months since that first time when Gran died. Usually when Dom was upset or homesick, or just generally being maudlin. No one else knew they did it. Hell, Dom didn't know why, really, it wasn't something they ever discussed before or after the fact. But it was more a comfort thing than a sexual one. Dom didn't know what that meant, and didn't really want to examine it either. He just... wanted it.

He looked up in the mirror at Billy behind him, the damp cloth squishing under his hand. "You're my best mate, Bill," he rumbled, letting his eyes fall half-closed, lips turning up, "Best at presents."

.

"I do what I can," Billy said grandly, rubbing between Dom's shoulder blades. He could tell when Dom was feeling needy, and tonight was no exception. He was stalling now, shifting his body in that way he did when he wanted Billy to stay but didn't want to sound like a sad prick.

Billy secretly loved the few times they'd slept in the same bed, in a deep, inaccessible way that he couldn't even admit to himself outright. They'd never curled up when they had, not the way they did on the ground in front of the fire that night camping, but that didn't mean Billy hadn't thought about it. It was like the urge to kiss—and not in the way they already had—all it would take was a few inches, Billy laying a hand on Dom's arm or at his hip under the covers. And like with the imagined kisses, he had a gut feeling the touches wouldn't be turned away. But there was always that sliver of doubt. 

Billy reached into the pockets of the shorts still clinging to his hips, fidgeting there. There was no way for him to ask if Dom wanted company, shirtless, without it sounding like an invitation for more. Still, he knew Dom wanted the company, but it wouldn't happen without Billy making it seem like his idea.

He balled his hands into fists and shrugged his shoulders, speaking quickly. "Can I stay? Not ready to sleep yet."

.

Dom latched onto that, happy for an excuse. "Gonna chat me to sleep?" He widened his smile, swiping at the back of his neck with the cloth before turning, "Keep my mind off my stomach, at least."

He moved back to his bedroom, more than aware that he was going to need pants if Billy was going to be comfortable so near him. Not that stripping off in present company was ever an issue, but he did accidentally-on-purpose let his cargos drop to his feet before opening his drawer to grab a pair of boxers.

Then it occurred to him just how off that was, the day when Billy Boyd didn't want to sleep. Billy, who could nap at any given opportunity and in some most interesting positions. He turned to make a joke about this, and caught Billy looking. It was only a split second, just a glance before Billy made himself interested in Dom's CD shelf, and he was very good at not appearing red-handed and embarrassed either. But the look on his face was nearly identical to the one he'd had in the woods, staring at Dom's mouth. Likes your mouth, Orlando's voice supplied helpfully. Likes your arse too.

Dom blinked. He was pretty sure Orli had never said that. He bent to pull the boxers on, feeling off-kilter. He was no stranger to being checked out by blokes. Hell, Elijah stuck a peek more often than he was probably even aware of, and in their group, arse grabbing and joking were as par for the course as snogging was a greeting. But his mind could not come up with a joke for this situation.

He turned to climb into bed, pushing the blankets down on the other side for Billy, though he wondered now if Billy would just sit with him until he fell asleep and then go to the guest room. His cleared his throat softly, casting about for a conversation in the awkward silence, "I liked that song. The unfinished one."

.

"Yeah?" Billy breathed, his heart still pounding from moments before. He'd seen Dom naked so many times now—it was unavoidable, really, though he'd always try his best to keep his eyes averted—but tonight he was just too tired, too tipsy, too weak to avoid the temptation. But he should have known: looking at the curves and planes of his skin was like a strange hypnosis.

He took his time unbuttoning his fly and letting his own shorts drop to the floor, revealing a pair of dark green boxers. "'M not even sure what it means yet," he said distractedly as he climbed in, the sheets cool and smooth against his legs. He thought of Gavin, how strange it was that Dom still didn't know about him.

Dom laid on his side facing him, his eyes wide and expectant, as if waiting for a story to begin. Billy laid a hand on his forehead—still cool and damp from the cloth—with the excuse of testing his temperature.

.

Dom wriggled down on the pillow, quickly dropping his own eyes to his fingers on the sheets. Billy stripping to kecks could only mean he was comfortable enough with this to stay the whole night, didn't it?

"'S alright," Dom murmured, eyelids falling as Billy's hand slid down, his knuckles testing the heat of his cheek. "Some people work like that, I guess. Don't have a real idea or message, like, but think up things, lines, that all relate to the same thing in your head." He blinked at Billy in the lamplight, his eyes staring back, bright with drink himself, Dom realized. He twisted back to click the lamp off. That would keep Billy from getting up to shut the light. "Never mind. Dunno what I'm talking about."

.

As soon as Dom turned off the light, Billy drew his hand back from his skin. He smiled in the dark at Dom's move; he really was so transparent. Which was precisely what gave Billy his doubt. If Dom had felt something, anything, he'd have said something by now. Right? Though he had done everything short of saying it at that point. 

Billy's eyes skittered around, adjusting to the dark as he pondered. Christ, he hated dealing with his feelings for men, the rare times that they made themselves known. The uncertainty and that strange brand of guilt just wasn't worth it. Most of the time.

He scooted further down, getting as comfortable as he could, mindful of where he placed his body. The feel of the sheets tucking up against his chest gave him a pleasurable shiver. He inhaled, then laughed. "Fuck, we smell like a pub, don't we? I am a bad influence."

.

"Bloody Scots," Dom grinned, "I don't think you can avoid that, you lot have whiskey in your DNA."

They lay quiet in the dark, careful to keep several inches between them. Dom couldn't help but wonder just what that was suppose to mean, when only minutes ago Billy had been plastered up against him, his face pressed and breathing hot against Dom's neck, legs intertwined on the lawn. Why was it okay when there was an audience, when it was a laugh? Why was it fine on set, when they were both dead tired and couldn't be arsed what anyone thought? Why was it okay when Dom was broken down? But it wasn't okay now?

Dom made no real secret that he occasionally fancied men, but now that he looked back, maybe all that about Harrison Ford and Becks was taken as a joke too. Everything was a joke with Dom, it was why he was so well liked most of the time, because he was always good for a laugh. But God forbid a time when he ever wanted to be taken seriously. Billy did sometimes, but apparently not on this.

He sighed heavily. It didn't matter anyway. However Billy acted, whether or not he snogged men or let a mate have cuddles when drunk off his arse, it all meant nothing, and because Billy was straight. He wasn't ever going to make a move, no matter how often that hum sparked between them. It was probably all in Dom's head anyway, a product of all the gay jokes and drink and Dom's own inappropriate feelings.

His guts twisted up in sudden threat, pushing a curse from his throat as he threw the sheets off and stumbled for the toilet.

.

"Oh no," Billy groaned, his mouth curling into a sympathetic smile in the dark. He quickly moved to turn on one of the bedside lamps, tore the covers back, and threw his legs back over the side. He sat there for a long moment, listening with a wince as Dom retched. "Fuck," he whispered, waiting until he couldn't hear anything anymore.

"...Dom?" he called, standing quickly and shuffling toward the open bathroom door. As he approached, he could hear Dom breathing heavily, a sound he'd made himself when fighting the turn of his stomach. His heart lurched. He waited before poking his head in, his heart twisting again at the sight of Dom looking terribly tiny, on his knees hunched over the toilet, his shoulders heaving with his breath.

"'M here," he quietly assured him, hanging back until Dom starting vomiting again. "Oh no," he said again, dropping to his knees and shuffling over. He laid a hand on the center of Dom's back, just holding him there, feeling his skin overheating and his heart racing. "Shh, 's alright." Billy stiffened a bit, suddenly worried; he'd never seen Dom so sick before. 

Finally Dom stopped, groaning and sniffling as he flushed the toilet. "D'you want me to go? D'you need to be left alone?" He already knew the answer.

.

Dom rested his head against the cool porcelain, shivering under the clamminess rising up over his hot skin. He dropped one hand back, landing on Billy's knee and holding there; his throat felt too raw to speak. Maybe he should have eaten something more substantial than sausage rolls and rich cake. He shouldn't have drunk all the whiskey. It was an expensive bottle too, he felt guilty about having wasted it now.

He leaned back, feeling Billy's hands come to his shoulders to steady and help him to his feet. He hovered while Dom again bent to the faucet to rinse his mouth, and waited while Dom grabbed his toothbrush and did a quick once-through to take the taste away.

It wasn't until after that he felt a little bit embarrassed for not holding his drink, turning around and leaning heavily against the sink top. He shrugged sheepishly, looking at the floor. "Bloody lightweight."

Billy breathed a chuckle, grabbing the still damp facecloth and dabbing his forehead with it, smoothing his sweaty hair back. Dom thought about how much Billy's caring touches only kept pushing him in a direction he couldn't have, but closed his eyes and let him do it anyway.

.

Once Dom's face melted into some semblance of relief, Billy tossed the wet washcloth into the sink. "'M going to get you more water. And toast, or something," he decided aloud, pushing fingers through Dom's cool, damp hair. "Alright?" Dom nodded, looking sapped of any energy he may have had before they'd gotten ready for bed. "Go lay down," he smiled, proud and grateful to be here to take care of him in this way.

Going from the dim bedroom to the bright light of the living room and kitchen made the remains of the party look about ten times worse than it had only minutes before. Billy slid a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster, straightening up as best he could as he waited for it to pop. Even in the face of all the time he and Dom had spent together, he'd never felt so essential to him, so much a part of his life than now. 

He stopped on a dime under the archway, a few empty cans of soda and beer cradled between his hands, listening for any signs of illness from Dom, hearing nothing. He was determined to keep it that way.

A couple of minutes later, he returned to a slightly more cheerful Dom, sitting up in bed, all but one pillow propped behind his back. Billy shook his head, smiling, and set the plate of toast on the bedside table. "Thought you'd have fallen asleep. You'll be happy to know I cleaned up a bit." He handed Dom a tall glass of water. "Cleared everything away but the cake."

.

"Knew I kept you around for something," Dom rumbled, smiling as he took the water and drank half, soothing his raw throat. The idea of eating anything wasn't very inviting, but Billy just stood there in his green pants until Dom took a bite, which seemed to release him to climb over Dom's legs and sit on the bed facing him. Dom chased the dry bite with a sip of water to get it down. "No butter, Jeeves?"

Billy smirked, thumping his thigh with the back of a hand and Dom left off, leaning his head back on the pillows as he chewed while Billy watched, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on folded hands.

"'S weird," Dom said, "I didn't feel so bad before. I don't feel too bad now."

.

"'S how it happens, I hear. I wouldn't know, of course, with my stomach of steel," Billy said proudly, with a tilt of his chin. Dom rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Don't be envious, now," he teased.

Dom merely smiled sweetly, chewing, obviously too worn out to make a remark.

Billy scooted forward a bit, laying his hand over Dom's forehead again. "Yeah, you're quite cool now," he said quietly. He drew his hand back quickly, folding it under his chin again with the other, suddenly bashful. "And you thought you'd gotten away from your mum for this shoot. You tell me if I'm being too much of a pain in the arse, eh?"

.

"Don't mind it so much," Dom murmured. Billy's eyes caught and held on that, darting back and forth, until Dom dropped his. Stupid mouth. He felt better, but he still felt drunk. Drunk and feeling it evaporate at the same time, which was odd, he was usually out cold by this point. But he didn't mind Billy's doting, as tired as he was. Having been sick had him feeling wrung out. He wouldn't have bothered with bread and water to settle his stomach if he'd been alone, but it helped him recover a bit easier, which would probably make for a better morning.

He reached for the other piece of toast, brushing at the sheets with a laugh. "D'you kick people out of bed for crumbs?"

.

"No, I kick 'em out for not giving me head." Dom's eyebrows shot up, his fingers still in his mouth, holding a bite of toast there.

Billy wasn't sure why he'd said it—early on, he wouldn't have thought twice about it, but there'd been so much tiptoeing lately that remarks like that, especially when they were alone, seemed off-limits. Maybe he was testing, whether to see if he could get a laugh out of Dom or get him to actually do it was anyone's guess. He thought to say, Not now, obviously, or Not you, but just a few seconds too many had passed by that point, and Dom was already back to eating his toast, though he looked distracted.

Billy slithered down, laying flat on his back on top of the covers. He rested a hand on his stomach, his fingertips pushing through the hair below his navel. It hit him how tired he still was, but he didn't want to fall asleep until Dom did. That made him think of being very little, when he'd have a nightmare and call quietly for his mum from his bed. She'd always managed to be half-awake to come rescue him, no matter what time it was. He swallowed past the familiar spike of melancholy that brought.

A low buzz pierced the quiet between Dom's bites: Billy's phone. He groaned as he hitched up on his elbows and leaned over the side of the bed, seeing its muffled glow through the pocket of his crumpled shorts. He fished it out and looked at the display screen, finding a text from Elijah. "Lij." He opened it. "Checking to see if I made it home without passing out," Billy said slowly, suddenly realizing something. "He never came back here, did he? When he went for a walk?"

.

"Dunno." Dom tried to recall back when Elijah left, but even an hour ago was hazy in his head. "I thought he was leaving. Walking home."

His eyes slipped to Billy's hand on his tum, fingers lingering half on the waist of his boxers and half on skin. They scritched there somewhat absently as Billy used his thumb to tap out a response on the phone, one fingertip dipping under the elastic for a moment. Dom yanked his gaze back to his toast, shoving the rest in his mouth. Billy's blow job deadpan had him off-kilter yet again. He meant girls, of course, and even then Dom doubted it. Billy was ever the gentleman around women. But just for a second, Christ, so often this week there was something there...

"Did he make it, or did he get kidnapped?" he joked, reaching for the water to wash the bread down. 

.

"I'm asking..." Billy said slowly, distracted, questioning Elijah's motives behind texting at all. He thought of the way he'd gotten up to go walk, when he'd gotten up to go walk. Something about it made Billy reluctant to mention that he'd stayed with Dom, that he was still there.

He snapped the phone shut, silenced it, and threw it back over the side of the bed, not caring where it landed. "Don't want to get back up," Billy muttered as he weaseled his way under the covers, watching with a smirk as it upset some crumbs lingering by Dom's thigh.

A satisfied smile played at the corners of Dom's mouth; he'd clearly won at something.

Billy gave a great sigh, his legs squirming just to feel the cool sheets against them, his belly still warm with whiskey and beer. He closed his eyes. "Elijah's sort of attached to you, yeah?"

.

Dom brushed at the crumbs, trying to get as many off his side of the mattress, parachuted the the covers to knock the rest off. Billy chuckled as they floated back down over them. Leaning up to turn off the lamp again, Dom sank into his pillow, one arm above his head and fingers pushing through his hair as he considered that question.

Elijah did seem to admire him quite a lot. But it was weird. It wasn't in terms of admiring his acting talent or his knowledge of music or whatever; the pair of them were pretty much equals there. It was as if Elijah just admired Dom's general way of life. It seemed such an odd thing to be looked up to for, in Dom's mind, Elijah's life was far more interesting.

Or it could have been that there was a little more to it. Dom knew half the looks in the kid's eyes, he'd been that kid once himself, albeit much earlier. Elijah was at the very least curious sexually. Curious enough to basically ask to be properly snogged as a male bonding experience and bring up the who would you fuck question. But Dom sort of doubted he'd follow through with it past those mild curiosities. At least not for a few years yet. Dom had taken ages to grow the stones to push his own boundaries, and even then he never got very far.

"A bit, yeah," he said in the dark, letting his head loll in Billy's direction. He was plastered. His memories of this night were little more than flashes now: Billy hugging him, being spanked (his arse still stung a bit), Billy singing, that pure, rich voice and the brightness of him when he performed. He had a flash of Elijah standing above the pair of them in the grass, that defeated look in his eyes. Dom sighed. He liked Lij, he really did. Just not like that. Frankly, he couldn't understand how Elijah could look at him like that when Billy was being so very bright. And Billy was still here with him, in his bed. He didn't have to be.

He thumped Billy with his free hand, raising a brow in the dark. "Then again, so are you, Vanilla Ice." He turned on his side, making out Billy's features in the moonlight. "Best thing about being joined at the hip on set: you don't have to work tomorrow either."

.

"Yeah," Billy exhaled, his body relaxing into the mattress even more at the thought. He shifted closer. "I am attached to you, aren't I?" he said quietly, his voice almost too intimate in the dark. He liked that Dom recognized that fact and wasn't too modest to say it out loud.

Billy lay there with his eyes wide open, pondering the two of them in bed, that this wasn't the first time, far from it, that there seemed to almost be a compulsion that brought them here.

"Don't know why," he teased. "You can't hold your whiskey and you're a terrible actor." He sighed, feeling silly. "And you're a huge slut."

.

"Said the man in my bed," Dom shot back. "Happy birthday to me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, the quiet, utterly honest tone in Billy's words belaying his own light joking. Dom Monaghan, comedian. Nothing was ever serious, was it? He didn't think he could be any more obvious, so if Billy wanted something from him, here was his chance.

Of course the part where he hadn't ever managed to pursue a man successfully when he wanted one, and he didn't want the ones he could have put a damper on his success rate with seriousness. So of course, Billy didn't do anything. Dom heard him turn his head on the pillow, the brush of hair on linen, but nothing more.

"Thanks," he sighed anyway, keeping his eyes closed and feeling the pull of sleep, "For staying. And for whiskey and for 'U Can't Touch This'. And being you."

.

"Don't think I've ever been thanked for so many things at once in my life," Billy murmured, laughter creeping into his voice. He went completely still in his little self-made cocoon. "I like doing things for you."

He took a breath, gathering nerve (feeling like a complete fucking idiot for having to do so in the first place), and shifted over, nudging his nose against the mattress until he found Dom's shoulder, dropped a kiss to the curve of it, and flopped back over, turning to face the opposite wall. His face overheated; it was such a twee show of affection, something much more suited to Dom than him. He had half a mind to tell Dom to stop rubbing off on him, but he'd be sure to take that rich bit of unintended innuendo and run with it, the bastard. 

"Happy birthday," he whispered, clutching the pillow between his fingers.

.

Dom's eyelids fluttered at the feel of Billy's lips through his t-shirt sleeve, the bed shifting as he rolled over. Dom's hand followed, over the space between them under the covers, wanting to drag him back. Straight, the reasonable corner of his mind told him, stopping his hand on the sheet.

He exhaled. Five years ago today, at a party much like this one, he'd tugged his mate Ben into a darkened bedroom and snogged the hell out of him, and for five seconds, he'd felt like it was something he could get comfortable with, kissing a bloke he liked, touching him, fucking him, maybe even more than all that. Only Ben hadn't figured it that way at all.

He turned over on his stomach, gripping his pillow. he had one of the most generous, honest, easy going blokes in his bed, one who fearlessly did ridiculous things in front of cameras and told filthy jokes and sang like a rockstar and snogged men for bets and laughs and sometimes just because. Dom didn't know how not to want him.

He fell asleep with Billy's rich, low voice in his head: _I send a kiss out to the night, I hope it finds your lips and soon I will follow…_


	8. So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December, Wellington ~ 1999

As he landed, the air left Dom's chest with a surprised hwuh sound. After a long moment, Billy landed in identical fashion beside him, pulling at the sweaty hair at his temple with a smile. "I didn't see that coming."

"Right? Twins." Dom grinned, then frowned, "Bad luck they didn't actually want come home with us though. You had to go being the gentleman and drive them home as if your balls weren't going blue."

.

"Gentleman being the operative word. I'm an adult, in case you've forgotten." He wrested the half-empty bottle of water from Dom's grip and took a swig. "If you wanted a night of skanking around, you should've gone to the pub with twenty-four year-old Billy. He was a huge slut."

.

"Oh really?" Dom turned on his side, propping his face on his elbow to gaze at Billy on the bed beside him, watching his throat work as he drank, "And yet you're the one sweating like an orc. You can't pretend for a minute that bedding twins wasn’t a wet dream of your slutty twenty-four year old self that never came true." He cocked a brow in challenge, "I'd wager it was near the top of a long list of naughty things you haven't crossed off."

.

"Who says it never came true?" Billy kept his eyes on the ceiling to avoid the wrath of Dom's eye roll. "Besides," he started unbuttoning his shirt one-handed, "sharing is awkward, isn't it? We would've had to flip a coin in the loo, wouldn't we?"

.

Dom snatched the water bottle and finished the rest of it, eyes latched to Billy's fingers parting his shirt before he tore them away to the light fixture, lying back again. Fuck, he was horny. "Is it awkward? I wouldn't know. Someone was too much of a gentleman for me to cross that one out tonight. Think I'd rather know your sluttish self."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Too drunk to filter his mouth. Not drunk enough not to care.

.

Ordinarily, Billy would push a remark like that out of his head through the other ear so there was no chance of it sticking to his memory bank. But he was all lax and tingly and damp, so he just let his head loll to the side of its own accord and got terribly fascinated by Dom's eyelashes. 

He turned to his side and pillowed his cheek on his hands. "What else is on your list?"

.

Dom kept his eyes closed, feeling Billy shift around beside him. Quite close beside him. It was warm, come to think of it. In December. At midnight. Fucking New Zealand.

"Lots of things," he rumbled, aiming for nonchalance and not quite managing it. "Twins were up there. Second or third, at least." He licked his lips and then shut them to prevent himself pointing out that part of the appeal of bedding twins with a mate was getting to watch said mate. Dom had been reorganizing the list since coming here. Since this evening at the pub, even, when he'd watched Billy's pretty mouth travel up the lefthand twin’s neck while his pretty hand traveled down to her arse in a way that sent a shiver up his own spine.

Not quite such a gentleman, then.

.

There were all these jokes Billy would have made just a few short weeks before: I wanted you to myself, anyway, Was hoping for male twins, not to be picky, et cetera. But considering the situation, that sizzling that'd been inserting itself into the air between he and Dom for a week and a half at least, he decided to keep his mouth shut. 

Only a few months here and he was already re-reevaluating his sexuality. Again. All over this unnerving little bastard who was eight years his junior. A boy, really and truly, with wide, exotic eyes and an unbelievably sweet, grateful disposition that didn't completely erase the street swagger sprinkled here and there. Fucking New Zealand.

It wasn't that Billy had never wanted a man—far from the truth, he was never one to discriminate when it came to pure animal attraction—but he certainly hadn't wanted one in a fuck of a long time, not since the Days of Slut.

He straddled Dom on his way up and off the bed, startling him out of what seemed to be half-sleep. "Need a shower. I'm mingin'."

.

That hwuh noise sprang out of his throat again at the abruptness of Billy atop him, and his hands flailed a bit before clasping tight around Billy's knee and wrist. His eyes went wide, reason just barely forcing his hands to let go, let Billy climb off of him.

He could feel himself blushing though, fucking blushing like a schoolgirl that Billy had, in one swift move, tilted him all off balance. This was the place for a joke, that clamoring reason told him, to salvage his sprawling dignity, currently spread out on the bed, overheated and hard in his jeans like a gold plated invitation.

But "No, you're not," was what fell out of his mouth, no goddamned filter at all, and Billy stopped at the bathroom door with his shirt half off.

.

He smirked, his wrists bound by the cuffs for a moment as he recognized the want coming off of Dom in waves, if not from his face then from the juncture of his thighs under his jeans, and if not for Billy then at least for someone or something. 

Still, those eyes roved over his right arm from shoulder to elbow, on display quite perfectly in this position, Billy knew. 

Billy rolled his shoulders to finally slip out of the shirt, balled it up in his hands, and threw it at Dom's face. "Well, you are. You should take one."

He whipped his belt off and left it there on the carpet for Dom to stare at as he disappeared into the bathroom.

.

Dom plucked the shirt off his face and sat up with an exhale. The shower started, evidenced through the six clear inches Billy had left the bathroom door open, just enough to catch glimpses of skin crossing the brightly lit space.

The mixed signals were reaching epic levels now. Never mind how blatantly Dom had just offered himself up, more whiskey induced bravado than anything else, but for fuck's sake, Billy'd been dropping hints all bloody week, baiting him with suggestive looks and snuggles under the guise of Pippin's teenage hormones and hobbity love, yet the very adult, very gentlemanly Billy Boyd was all straight and true and... straight.

Except when he wasn't. Dom had seen his glinting eyes crawl up and down his prone body a minute ago, seen them pause on his crotch too, and just for a second, he'd seemed interested. And then he'd walked away.

Dom raised the shirt to his face again, inhaling the mingled scent of Billy's sweat and aftershave. He was tempted to wank in Billy's shirt and see how clear a message that might send about his interest in fooling around with blokes. One he hadn't indulged since drama school, and even then not much, but still. Billy's twenty-four year old self seemed pretty far away from Dom's eighteen year old self right about now.

He stood, hung the shirt on the bathroom doorknob, and then went to the kitchen to pull down Billy's whiskey for a bit more liquid courage. Or oblivion, more like.

.

Billy tipped his head back into the water and tried to sober up. He was too old for this shite. Too old to even be entertaining the idea of sleeping with his twenty-three year-old friend, let alone teasing him like he was, well, twenty-three and not thirty.

He opened his eyes to the tiled ceiling and noticed that it was moving a bit. He hadn't been this pissed in a long time. This was not good. It gave the night a potential that it wouldn't have—shouldn't have—otherwise.

As of a few moments before, there was a What if? in the air. What if Dom had looked at him just a moment longer? What if he'd stayed astride him just a second more? What if Dom had walked in here naked, pushed Billy against the tiles, and stuck his tongue in his mouth, like Billy really and truly wanted him to?

Him being just on the right side of pissed gave him an easy out the morning after—in the event that Dom decided to have a fit about the whole thing. Or worse, pretend it had never happened.

This could happen tonight, Billy finally let the voice in his head speak loud, clear, and crisp. But, it chided, you're going to have to be the one to make it happen. 

Call Billy old-fashioned, but he was the older and presumably more experienced one here—he'd have to put his pride on the line.

He watched the rivulets of water carry the stink of the night (and the twins) off of him and moaned, palming himself.

Fuck pride. I'm too wound up to stop now.

.

Downing the inch of whiskey in the glass, he reached for the bottle and poured another fingers worth in, leaning back against the sink.

What exactly was going on here anyway? Not only had Billy so politely driven the girls home, he'd driven right past Dom's place without stopping or even asking if Dom wanted to stay over. No, he'd driven them both to Billy's in the middle of the night, with a rare day off tomorrow.

Logic pointed out that Billy was enough of a mate after four months that having Dom crash at his place on the weekend was par for the course. Logic said Billy knew they'd get together and hit the waves in the morning anyway.

Dom wasn't feeling particularly logical right now, and he tipped back the last of the whiskey in the glass and left it upside down on the edge of the sink, and went back down the long dark hall.

He hovered on the threshold between the open bedroom and the guest room, watching that sliver of bathroom light. There was a decision to be made here in the next three minutes it took Billy to wash, a fact Dom knew out of that four months of close quarters experience. He could go into the guest room and close the door on this thing, and they'd get up in the morning and go surfing and forget all about this. Or he could grow a pair and see if it was thing after all. Presuming Billy wasn't wanking in the shower already, which would nullify the decision anyway.

The water muffled groan and the sound of the shower turning off brought it to head, and still it took every ounce of courage Dom had to move, forgo the guestroom and lean as casually as possible against Billy's bedroom door, waiting for him to emerge from the steam. Hopefully naked.

.

Billy stood a moment, dripping into the tub while he contemplated his next move. It was such a simple decision: towel or none? Towel or none... 

There was certainly no harm in a little nudity. Billy could take a naked walk across the room for a fresh pair of boxers with the heat or whiskey as his alibi (it was really going to come in handy tonight either way, wasn't it?). Dom practically lived half of his life naked (probably what this whole fiasco could be blamed on, at the end of the day). He'd be surprised, but he wouldn't necessarily be suspicious. And it was a good test. Billy'd take his time, maybe do a little stretching before covering up, and if Dom hadn't pounced him by then, it'd be the guest room for him.

He took one final look in the mirror and could almost see the ghost of Slutty Billy winking at him in the reflection. He dried himself thoroughly, lost his footing ever so slightly (Christ, but he was still pissed), and took the towel to his hair, scrubbing with one hand as he flung the door open with the other.

Dom was standing right there.

Billy gave a start, pulling the towel down to his groin like a pantsed cartoon. "Shite. Scared me."

The look on Dom's face gave him the needed courage to follow through with the plan, at least partially. He took a few steps closer and leaned in, the bunched up towel barely keeping him decent, and took a whiff of Dom's breath. He let out the start of a laugh—"Did you drink more?"—and turned to make his way toward the dresser, toweling his hair two-handed.

.

Now, ordinarily, Dom would never allow Billy to live that little hop-and-cover down. Even in a naked situation. Especially in a naked situation. Within ten minutes of arriving on set the following Monday, everyone within the next square mile would be mimicking Billy's patented Tweety Bird shock.

So it wasn't that Billy was, in fact, starkers that stopped the rib dead in Dom's throat. He was even okay after a second's glimpse with the fact that Billy was not only naked, but really quite hard, so at least Dom knew he maybe had a chance at this.

No, what killed it was Billy advancing on him while naked and hard, recovering swiftly enough from surprise to tilt Dom yet again. It took his bravado and whatever joke he'd been preparing (because if they could joke through this, they might come out of it okay) right out of him.

"Maybe," he answered Billy's question, and his voice was doing that rough-edged thing, that was good. He inhaled slowly through his nose, not only to smell the now clean scent of Billy, but in an attempt to settle the way he felt like he was going vibrate out of his skin if this actually went anywhere.

His eyes fell as Billy turned his back, down to Billy's arse. Nice and pert and narrow, up into the triangle of his back and shoulders, muscular and compact. Other missed opportunities of the evening skipped his mind entirely for this one.

He followed on Billy's heels to the edge the dresser, and when Billy turned, still clutching that fucking towel over his cock, he gathered every last nerve, gave his best bedroom eyes and pushed his voice down to that gravelly place to keep any trace of a tremble out of it. "You never asked me what was first on my list."

.

Billy made a valiant attempt at nonchalance while tying the towel loosely around his waist. His eyes dropped to Dom's mouth, a point of serious torture over the past couple of weeks, mainly for being the keeper of that voice (people went on and on and on about Billy's, but they were totally fucking daft as far as he was concerned, particularly at this moment). 

He lifted his eyes back to Dom's and they smiled back at him knowingly. He felt the dresser creak as he leaned into the edge of it, backing away from the slow burn there. "What?" he whispered.

.

Dom licked his lips, stalling. Why was it so very easy to snog this man senseless when everyone was watching and laughing and yet, right now when it counted, he couldn't quite gather the nerve?

And Billy was into it, he wanted it, it couldn't just be the whiskey addling his mind at the way Billy's eyes cut and held on his mouth, asking to kiss. But he was still waiting for Dom's give-over, and it all depended on what he did and said now.

He took another step, invading Billy's space and—boldly, considering the way his heart was hammering right now—drew two fingers along skin and the edge of terrycloth barely clinging to Billy's hip, to the tuck where it wouldn't take more than a flick to have it gone.

"To... broaden my horizons."

.

Billy instinctively, enticingly tilted his hips forward, keeping his fingers curled around the wood behind him. His entire body throbbed; he could hear it loud and clear in his own ears. Dom's forwardness was unnerving. It made him wonder how long he'd been considering this, and whether or not he'd considered all the possible repercussions.

Perhaps he wouldn't be the one to take the plunge, after all.

Billy's train of thought fuzzed out as he got increasingly distracted by that wet little mouth, envisioning all the things he could do to it—and it could do to him. He licked his own lips in anticipation.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Dominic."

.

"Fuck, Bills," Dom grated out through his teeth in a half-irritated laugh. Patience was never his strongest suit. He closed the gap with his body, letting his hand tighten on that hip (fingers full of arse muscle too, that's lovely), letting his own denim-clad erection collide with Billy's (hot, hot and hard and exciting, Billy all naked and him still clothed, shit, he felt fourteen years old again). The towel pooled at Billy's feet.

He nudged his nose up against the side of Billy's, whiskey in his blood now egging him on, and didn't kiss (so very much wanted Billy to at least initiate that for once), but growled right against his mouth so his words curled right along the stubble-soft wet edge of his lips. "I want to get off and I want to do it with you. Specific enough?"

.

Billy let out a harsh huff of air as the sharp edges of Dom's jeans dug into his quickly overheating skin in all the right places. So many stupid, inane, all-too-honest retorts swam through his head: I'm scared. How do we do this? What happens tomorrow?

But thankfully, Billy had enough sense to squash the urge to say any of those things into the pit of his stomach. He gripped the sinews of Dom's forearms, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his jaw—"C'mere, then"—and dragged his teeth over Dom's bottom lip.

.

Dom's breath left him in a whoosh at the feel of those sharp, wicked little teeth and he did as he was told, the tip of his tongue touching that sweet little bud at the middle of Billy's top lip, asking entry, kissing deeply when he was granted it. But his brain had reached critical mass and was spazzing a little. Now that whiskey and balls had got him a handful of naked Billy, he didn't quite know what to do next, and any minute, his inexperience was going to show itself. He was already trembling and Billy would surely notice soon. If anything would sour their friendship, being kicked to the curb for not living up to a drunken romp would probably do it.

He pulled his mouth back, foreheads still together and flicked his eyes downward, trying to gather himself. It didn't much help seeing the tip of Billy's cock poking enthusiastically up between his body and Dom's jeans. His hand slipped up to pet along the bit of hair down the center of Billy's chest and belly, and in his head he found himself asking where the bloody director was, he could use a little guidance here. He chuckled at the insane imagery.

.

Billy raced his palms up and down Dom's arms, feeling the nerves practically jumping up under his fingers. It didn't take long for them to jump inside his own skin. He licked his lips again, this time tasting his friend there.

When Dom laughed, that was contagious too. "What?" He laid his hand over Dom's heart, feeling its erratic beat betray his bravado. "Hey." The tips of his fingers tripped along Dom's collarbone. "Hey," he soothed. He worked to push the lust out of his voice and gave Dom an impish smile. "I could put on some pants if you want. I think I skipped a few steps." 

He reached deep into his acting arsenal and tried to make his eyes say, It's okay. It's just me. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to.

If Billy were honest with himself, though, he'd have to stop looking at the contrast of Dom's hands on his skin in order for that message to hold. He shut his eyes and waited.

.

"No," Dom whispered quickly. Pants equaled rejection equaled awkward, and that he wouldn't have, not with Billy. "Don’t do that."

He scurried around in his head, trying to settle on what to do. Everything, and now, was what was throbbing forefront, hot behind a layer of denim. 

"I should take mine off, even the field, eh?" he grinned, looking up to find Billy's eyes closed. He couldn't be as nervous as Dom felt. He slid his hand down nearly to his fly before realizing how close that was to Billy's cock and gripped his t-shirt in indecision. "I want this, I'm just..."

He didn't finish, any number of ways to salvage that sentence and his false bravery dying as he leaned back in to press an almost chaste kiss to the corner of Billy's mouth.

.

Dom kissing him like that gave Billy's heart an unexpectedly tight squeeze. His hands slid up and over Dom's shoulders, palms bracing either side of his face. He finally opened his eyes. "It's just me, Dom." He gave him a deep, penetrating kiss. "It's just me. That's all."

Billy let his hands slowly fall so they could smooth over Dom's front, around his back, and creep under the hem of his shirt. His breath caught at the warmth of the skin on either side of Dom's spine, but he forced his fingers to wait for further instruction, patient but promising.

.

Exactly, Dom thought, it was just Billy, and that didn't help. Billy, his mate, his fascinating costar. The fact that he was a man was less frightening than the fact that Dom was half in love with him already. And here he was being irrepressibly sweet and sexy as hell at the same time, curling his mobile little tongue around Dom’s mouth and his hands burning bright paths through the cotton of his shirt, then incendiary beneath it. 

He lifted his arms automatically to let Billy peel the shirt off, to bring them both closer to the same page before he caught a whiff of himself and laughed with embarrassment. "'M still minging. Sorry."

.

Billy breathed a sigh of relief when Dom lifted his arms, then smiled with affection as his head finally reappeared, hair all tufty and disheveled. He laughed before Dom could apologize for being a bit ripe, and pulled him closer, the titters instantly dying in both their throats when skin made contact on skin. 

Dom was so warm—alive—and lean where Billy was a bit meaty. Billy'd been admiring his body since that first day in the costume trailer (and every day thereafter that Dom so carelessly bared it all to people he barely knew), the edgy, lustful lines of it. Dom had the kind of figure that inspired anyone to thoughts of sex by just looking at it. But feeling it all pressed against him, waking to his own body and talking to it in this way was just overwhelming.

"I'll take you just as you are," he panted, raking his nails down Dom's sides, thumbs following the lines of his stomach down to the dark trail of hair that disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. He resisted the urge to bring his thumb up to his mouth and give it a suck, to taste the musk there—no doubt stronger now—and instead opened his mouth to Dom's in a kind of messy, wet kiss.

.

Dom groaned deep in Billy's mouth, his ab muscles tightening at the threat of a tickle from Billy's thumbs and subsequently grinding him even tighter into Billy's hips. The taste of whiskey had left his tongue, nothing now but the hot, slick inside of Billy's mouth and his teasing nips and suction sending electric shocks right down to his cock.

Then there was Billy's skin, warm, the quasi-damp softness of water-nourished flesh over his fit muscles, and just enough hair to prickle and rub. Dom had hands, he remembered, and drew them up Billy's back, to the beef of his shoulders and those enviable biceps, so odd on such a slight frame.

But it was the way Billy’s breathing deepened, gasps caught between kisses, making Dom's jeans beyond uncomfortably tight now. With an effort, he pulled away, a hand on Billy's chest to hold him at length while his other went for his belt, still too close to Billy's cock to keep it from distracting him this task. He fumbled the buckle one-handed, eyes glued at the angry red marks his denims had pressed into Billy's jerking prick.

"Need these off."

.

Billy grabbed Dom's hand and pulled it away, accidentally (or perhaps completely intentionally) letting it brush against the abused underside of his cock on the way. He shivered—"Let me"—and pulled Dom's fly apart button by button.

When the backs of his knuckles brushed against not fabric but hot velvet skin on the way down, Billy exhaled harshly, his fingers stuttering. "Fuck. You're not—." He forewent the last button, forcing the denim down under Dom's balls so his prick sprang free, so long and leaking already, and sucked at Dom's neck, pulling him against him by the arse so their pricks lined up. He growled in the back of his throat at the feel of it, the sloppy, tingling, burning sofuckinghot feel of it, and sank his teeth into Dom's skin, quickly losing control.

.

The Do I ever—? joke that surprisingly sprang to mind died a quick death when Billy's affectionate, easy demeanor slipped off and he ripped Dom's jeans open, eyes pooling dark like he was starving and Dom was lunch. His cock pulsed, finally free, but then he was all but attacked, with Billy's body and arms and his cock, pressed right up against his own, iron hot and throbbing and damp, and then Billy's evil, vicious little teeth tore a whimpering cry out of Dom's throat he never would expect could come out of his own mouth. It was everything all at once, and it was fucking insane.

He gasped for breath and his hands found Billy's hips, shifting and then grinding hard, driving his erection right up against that crisp, maddening hair and softhard skin. "Jesus."

Keeping them tight together, he attempted to maneuver backward to the bed, but his jeans kept sliding—now freed of his hips and shimmying down—they stuck round his knees at the same time the mattress caught the backs of them and with a whoosh of suddenly cold air, he fell sprawling back, Billy half atop him and laughing.

"Right, that was suave of me, wasn't it?" Dom grinned stupidly up at him, giggles fading quickly for how fucking good a view that was. He glanced at his hand, a bit of cool damp smeared on his knuckle, from where it had brushed Billy's cock, he suddenly realized. On the pretense of wiping his mouth, he sampled it on his lips, the taste musky and the very dirty act of doing it, of tasting his best mate’s precome sending a flush to his ears as he met Billy's copper hot eyes above him.

.

Billy took the opportunity to get in a full-bodied laugh when Dom stumbled spectacularly onto his back. He was grateful for the reprieve and the reminder of who they were (and still would be at the end of all this), and he could tell that Dom was too.

But when he finally raised his head to look down at him, he nearly lost his balance on the one arm that braced him. Those big stormy eyes locked on his with an almost incongruous innocence as Dom brought the back of his hand to his mouth and darted the tip of his tongue out to taste the slickness there.

Billy's jaw dropped around a choked moan and he brought his other arm down to the mattress next to Dom's shoulder, lining them up again perfectly. He felt his hips roll down of their own accord and watched with undoubtedly dark eyes as Dom dipped his tongue between his knuckles, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, you filthy little—." He rolled his hips again, this time with the intention of rubbing off on Dom's hip, and bit his lip at the feel of Dom's jeans—still caught between his knees—abrading his thighs. 

He forced his eyes shut and his hips still. "You've no idea how much trouble you're in now." He looked back down at Dom, gave him a bruising kiss, and whispered, "Be back," sliding down and disappearing at the end of the mattress.

.

Dom let out a heavy, shaky exhale, his mouth and his cock pulsing, and his cheeks still flaring at being caught, and Billy didn't miss a thing, did he? He darted his tongue back out to his lips, gathering any trace of that taste, closing his eyes and grinning maniacally as Billy slithered off the edge of the bed. He arched his back and threw one arm above his head, the other raking over a nipple on its way down to just palm himself, not to rush but to slow the blood singing through every inch of him. He hummed his pleasure just a little, just because he wanted Billy to hear it.

The tone of Billy's voice speaking of trouble held so many promises and Dom was more than willing to prolong inevitability wherever Billy was involved. Particularly this new, naked, scalding hot version of him, fuck, the air around him practically wavered with it. Fear of the unknown was all but gone, replaced with childish naughty excitement, and he squirmed restlessly, trying to wriggle his jeans the rest of the way off.

.

Billy kneeled at Dom's feet, smiling at the image of his toes squirming into the carpet. His hands reached out to grip the legs of his jeans, stopping midair at the sound of Dom letting out a little whimper from above. He smiled, shook his head, grasped the denim, and tugged.

Dom lifted up and moved his legs up and down in a half-hearted attempt to help, but it was Billy's pioneering efforts that finally got him naked. He threw the jeans clear across the room and cradled Dom's calves in his palms. He waited a moment or two, just to keep Dom on edge, then nudged his nose behind Dom's knee and licked at the skin there.

Billy smiled, tasting the pub on Dom's skin. A flash came to him from earlier in the evening, of Dom sandwiched between the twins on the dance floor, and he remembered the brief moment of envy he felt—and the alarm a moment later when he realized it was envy for the girls. 

He ran his tongue back and forth slowly along the crease there, remembering the way Dom had thrown both arms above his head and rolled his hips almost to the beat, grateful that he'd ultimately been the one to end up in Billy's bed under his hands, and not a pair of girls odds are he'd never have seen again, anyway.

Billy peered over the end of the mattress and felt a guttural surge of lust at the sight of Dom supine, one hand thrown above his head and the other skating over a tan nipple. That made the decision for him: he hooked his hands around the backs of Dom's knees and pulled, sliding him down to the end of the mattress where Billy needed him.

.

Dom’s knee jerked with his gasp at hot dart of Billy's tongue on such a sensitive place, and he made a conscious effort not to kick when Billy's ferocious grinning teeth pressed close after. His nerves were spangling, gooseflesh rising over his arms and legs, not cold in the least.

A sharp "ah!" left his throat at being yanked forward, just about any friction anywhere striking up a fire in his skin like a match, the bedspread beneath his arse and shoulder blades, the unsuppressed rub of his hot palm over his balls, and the way, oh good god, the way Billy's neat hands slid round his knees and up the insides of his thighs against the grain, pushing them apart.

"Oh Christ, please, yes," Dom nearly yelled, gripping the sheets and lifting his head to see of Billy was truly going to put that magnificent mouth where he wanted it so badly.

.

Even after such a show of enthusiasm, Billy still gave Dom the chance to protest. He stalled terribly, bowing his head over Dom's groin but only giving slow, gentle licks to the insides of his thighs and scratching his nails lightly through the hair on his abdomen. The way Dom watched so unabashedly, waiting with a strange mixture of terror and love and need in his eyes, was disarming, made Billy's tongue lose its place.

His own eyes flicked down to the feast before him, all of Dom from the tip of his cock to that strip of skin right behind his balls, and he couldn't help it, he reached down and gave himself a stroke, and then gave Dom a sucking bite on the meaty part of his thigh for being so goddamn perfectly tempting. He licked over the bruise and then let the air cool it, finally turning his attention to where it was needed.

The whiskey sung in his veins, made him bold and hungry. He lifted up on his knees, rocking himself into the side of the mattress, and cradled Dom's leaking cock in his hand, then licked a wicked wet line up the length of it, all the way to the slit, where he dipped the tip of his tongue in and pulsed it there, being a right fucking tease. He licked the precome into his mouth and rolled it around in there, then dove in for another taste.

.

Okay, so Dom was maybe a teeny bit afraid. Because really, every other time he'd found himself in this position, the girl always found him a bit daunting. He wasn't enormous, but he was rather large, and they nearly always seemed to think it was deep throat or nothing and ended up hurting themselves, and he knew better than to mention what a fucking let-down that was.

So, never, ever had anyone prowled over him with a look that very clearly said in a minute, after I've finished toying with you, I'm going to eat you alive. Dom was going to feel that bite on his leg for days, right where the inseam of his hobbit trousers would rub... and then the whole world went white hot.

When his vision shivered back to normal, he found himself whimpering high and wordless, mentally reciting the names of every saint he could remember and thanking them all that he'd ever met this man he'd follow straight to hell. He slid his hand down to the one Billy was holding him down with, lacing their fingers together on his belly. He hitched up on his other elbow to watch more easily, aware now of the subtle way the mattress was creaking, moving, as Billy moved.

"Billy, don't—" he cleared the hoarseness from his throat. "Don't make me come yet."

When Billy paused, his fiendish tongue curling round Dom's glans in a maddening way and those teeth, those dangerous pointy teeth glinting with saliva and more, Dom met his eyes and tried to steady the want in his voice, "I am so gonna get you back for this."

.

What was even scarier to Billy than the idea of going down on his best mate and costar of the next couple of years were the moments of sweetness that started sneaking their way into play. Dom's hand intertwined with his provided a confusing but utterly welcome counterpoint to the situation at hand.

Which is why when Dom told him not to make him come yet—the notorious code for I want you to be fucking me when I do—Billy had to tamp down the urge to ask why just to make sure. There was a sense of Dom putting himself in Billy's hands here, and Billy really and truly did not want to fuck it up. He wanted it to be mind-blowing, yes, and he would make sure of that, but he also wanted to make sure he wasn't going to do anything that would make Dom uncomfortable.

Dom's seethed promise of retaliation provided some relief, gave Billy free rein to really drive him insane. He pursed his lips, suckling hard along the (Christ, he's really fucking long) length of Dom, leaking himself at the soundtrack that drew out of him, then licked over, between, around, and under his balls, testing the weight of them on his tongue. 

With a glint in his eyes, he faintly remembered a conversation they'd all had one of those first nights crawling the pubs downtown, back when he still mistook the gorgeous edges of Dom for something trashy. It was just a run-of-the-mill blokey conversation like any another. Billy wouldn't have remembered it at all, except that Dom had gone off on a twelve-minute (Elijah counted) soliloquy about one of his favorite things in the world of sex (if not his very favorite) with this glazed-over look in his eyes that probably rivaled Billy's right now.

As Billy slowly drew his tongue lower and lower, closer to that place, the key to Dom's undoing, he felt Dom's thigh muscles go taut with anticipation—knowledge—of what was about to happen, his breath held tight in his throat. When Billy finally pressed his tongue up, hard, against that thin stretch of skin, Dom jerked violently and took in a deep, shaky breath that sounded like it should've been accompanied by tears.

The sounds that poured out of Dom in the moments that followed—high, desperate, rhythmic, and so shameless—startled Billy out of any smugness he could have started to feel. He clutched Dom's thighs with both hands and lashed his tongue up and down to the same slow, torturous beat that he was now humping the mattress in earnest.

.

Dom pondered nirvana for a moment, if that was what this was, this pure, crystalline clarity of self and place he was floating in. He was transported to multiple memories at once, and he'd possibly left his body to get there.

The first was that moment when he'd first seen Billy as Pippin, in full costume and character doing some scene with Frodo and entirely given over to the child within, a picture of untarnished innocence. Billy gave it his all, and Dom admired and envied that.

Then he could see Billy as himself, out of costume and in a wetsuit, in that first epic time when he'd ridden on the spine of the sea without tumbling, his face glowing with triumph and pride and accomplishment, urging Dom to give it a go, and shouting to the heavens how it was better than sex, and Dom was profoundly taken that he'd been there to see it.

The last vision was Billy out and about, on the pull, a man who bounced with kiddish energy during the day now calm, settled and burning through a room with confident predatory purpose. Yet Dom could count on one hand the number of times in the last four months Billy had taken a girl home with him. He could also remember how, each time it had happened, it was not the girl Dom would have expected, it was not the pretty fiery ones Billy went for but the wingman, the quiet one who came along knowing full well she'd be passed over. These nights, Dom inevitably went home alone, thinking about what sorts of things that lucky girl was privy to, and bringing himself to a sticky, longing end over it.

So, dropping back into place in his sweat slick body and being the object of Billy's ever-detailed attentions made him obscenely grateful. Billy was clearly not a man at all, but a chameleon, a skinchanger who was currently driving Dom to the brink of insanity at that oh so special place—that magic place Dom usually had to coax a girl to even touch with their fingers for ten seconds, that Dom played with incessantly on his own private time while he added filthy dirty things to that list of his—and with his motherfucking psychotic tongue to boot. The only thing keeping him from shooting himself all over the place were Billy's fingers clamped hard round the base of his throbbing red cock, denial only ratcheting the pleasure up higher.

He collapsed back, noises and half-words leaving him he had no control over whatsoever, elbow giving out as he arched and spread himself wider, his hand skittering down to push his fingers through the soft, fine hair on the crown of Billy's head, down to stroke the edge of his cheekbone in utter gratitude.

.

Billy had always been a fan of Dom's more feminine edges—and he had them, he really did—and he felt proud to be one of the few that recognized them. The long, gentle brush of his eyelashes against his cheekbones, his dancer-like flexibility, his elegant hands, his penchant for accessories, the sweetness underlying all that bite. 

Performing this act for him reminded Billy of that; he'd never say so to Dom, but doing this bit was sort of like going down on a girl—and Dom's reactions, those sounds, were rivaling any porn star's. That's what he loved about Dom: he never did anything halfheartedly. There was nothing hesitant about his masculinity or his femininity. They just were, side by side, coming in and out like waves, depending on the situation, his lovely, shameless energy a constant.

When Dom spread himself wider, Billy tongued him harder, bared his teeth and grazed them lightly along that skin, making him clench up and gasp loud. He ran his thumb along the vein in Dom's cock in counterpoint, still cutting off his orgasm. When he felt Dom's fingers skittering along his face, he gave those elegant fingers a kiss and a lick and decided to give it a rest. He met Dom's eyes with his own, released his grip on his cock, and gave languid open-mouthed kisses to his inner thighs to calm him.

The look of burning gratitude on Dom's face drove him to reach down and give himself another stroke or two, his eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck," he exhaled. He was not going to last long.

.

Dom dropped his head back on the mattress, panting for breath, his inner thighs jerking minutely under the kitten licks Billy was laying over them. He swallowed, overwhelmed and loving every crazy second of it, and when he heard Billy mutter a heartfelt curse from between his legs, a wild, surging recklessness fired into his limbs.

He lunged up and grabbed Billy by the scruff of the neck, the bit of hair at his nape and the little cord necklace he wore and hauled him up. "Get your arse up here, you brilliant sonofabitch."

Gathering Billy up close, nearly in his lap, he plunged his mouth on Billy's and reveled in the taste, the thick, raging sex taste of himself all over Billy's lips and tongue, and Dom loved it, searched for it, skimming teeth and the insides of his cheeks to gather it, his arms roaming over hot skin and arse, Billy's cock crushed up between his thigh and hipbone, skimming a hand over it just to touch something ordinarily forbidden.

"What do you want?" he breathed in Billy's mouth, "'Cause if you're good with shoving your tongue up my gauch then I'll do just about anything you want me to," he grinned ferally, even if the thrill and fear didn't stop him offering in the least.

.

Billy knew there was something decidedly unsexy about the reply Whatever you're comfortable with, so he pushed it past his tongue and back down his throat where it belonged. It was the truth, though. He was still fucking scared. He knew from experience that at any moment, Dom could freak out and stop this whole glorious thing in its tracks. If Billy pushed too hard too fast, he'd be done for. And their friendship might recover, in time, but his pride certainly never would.

He grasped Dom's hands in his and pushed them over his head into the mattress, leaving little sucking bites along his neck to give Dom a moment for his head to clear—and give him time to think. He really, really wanted to fuck Dom, more than anything right now, but that was asking a lot. There was still a lot to clarify as far as Dom's experience was concerned, and unless it was Dom's idea, it wasn't worth the risk.

Besides, Billy was pretty sure they were both too far gone for that. Without a world of restraint, Dom could ostensibly undo him completely with a well-placed fingertip. 

He worked his way back up Dom's neck, pulling at the tender skin there with his teeth and leaving little bruises that he couldn't wait to see Elijah tease him for the next morning (and take every last guess as to who left them there). The thrill of that made Billy smile to himself as he licked a careful stripe up to Dom's earlobe, nipped at it, and breathed, "Get on top of me."

.

Even with the way his wrist bones ground together under Billy's palm and he nipped, hard—jesus, people will see—up and down his neck, Dom recognized that Billy was being careful with him, checking where Dom would throw himself headlong and arms spread off a cliff. And he appreciated it, to a degree. This was far and away beyond the snogging and groping he'd done with men previously.

Still, this was about broadening his horizons; he grinned at his carefully ambiguous earlier phrasing. Oh, he was going to come, and it was going to be with Billy, very possibly at the hands of Billy, and Dom wanted that. He was surprised he'd waited so long to take this plunge, but now he knew it was because he'd been waiting for the right bloke.

They had something. It was tangible, almost. Other people saw it. And Dom wasn't willing to assign it with the term love or anything else sappy quite yet, but it was a connection and a trust, and that's probably what got him into this mess in the first place. With whiskey burning out of him in droplets of sweat, he wondered about the morning, and whether or not it would be weird. But right now he was way too fired up to worry about it.

He obliged Billy's breathy request, lifting and tilting and straddling over Billy, nudging them up so Billy's feet weren't hanging off the edge, and knelt there, looking down at him. Billy, naked, flushed, sweaty, his eyes swimming with something truly amazing Dom couldn't find a word for. He breathed as Billy breathed, deep and slow, yoga breaths, trying to slow this, because he never wanted it to end, even though it surely would eventually.

He palmed himself, reached back to feel the spit-slickness between his legs and hummed again. Billy did that. Innocent little Pip, holy God, that was all kinds of fucking wrong, and Dom didn't want to be right.

He took his own cock in his hand, balancing over Billy on one arm, and drew the dripping tip over the soft skin and hair around Billy's navel, making sticky random patterns.

"You're filthier than I ever figured you for, Boyd. I can see you thinking," Dom rumbled, still catching his breath. "So what do you want from me? I want to hear it."

.

Trapped beneath Dom, and seeing him take himself in hand, urging drops of precome in and around his navel, Billy's mouth watered. He almost regretted not finishing Dom off in his mouth. He licked his lips and rocked his hips up once, gripping Dom's lithe hips with his hands. Dom smirked knowingly, and Billy could feel his eyes go impossibly darker.

And then Dom called him out, and he squirmed, flushing. The position they were in gave him ideas, crystal clear images that made him bite his lip and shut his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he could see Dom riding him, sweaty and breathy, his face all pinched, and he let out the start of a moan. When he opened his eyes, what he saw was so close to identical that he rolled his hips again just to see what would happen.

He took Dom's hand—unwrapped it from around his prick—and brought it to his mouth, licking the taste off his fingers with reverence. He dipped his tongue in the space between Dom's index and middle finger, paused—"Have you ever been fucked, Dom?"—then wrapped his mouth around Dom's thumb and sucked.

.

Dom's nostrils flared at the question, and the visual, fuck, Billy'd already had his mouth all over Dom's cock and yet the innuendo of it tightened his balls all over again. And the question... So Billy was really thinking endgame already. "God, but you're mouthy, aren't you," he airily laughed, stalling and then plunging.

"I... no," he whispered, debating whether to turn that right around and ask have you? He smiled sheepishly, then cheekily, "But I've, uh... I've played, I've stuck my fingers up there, a couple times."

It was the truth, even if his heart was pounding with anxiousness and excitement combined. And that was all the fault of his queer mates back home chattering about fucking like it was coffee shop fare, and how mindblowing it was, and Dom couldn't help himself, he was curious to a fault. Still, he'd never told anyone that, never considered allowing it, and now here he was considering.

It could hurt, it would hurt, he knew that, but fuck it. It was just about the hottest, dirtiest thing ever to think that Billy wanted to do that to him. Billy who had evolved by leaps and bounds in Dom's head in the last... Christ, maybe twenty minutes since Dom had made that milestone decision not to go into the guest room? He imagined steam shooting from his ears and laughed again, leaning down over Billy to dart his tongue over one pert nipple and up over his collarbone.

"You want to fuck me?" he murmured, trying the words and watching the burn in Billy's eyes. He descended, slowly, carefully, maneuvering forward, down and then back so Billy's cock slid all the way between his legs and up—holy Jesus—wetly up along his perineum and rested between his cheeks. "I might let you."

.

Billy's head tipped back into the pillows at this particularly wicked bit of torture, his jaw dropping. Between Dom's perfect arse warm around his cock and the image of him fingering himself (which still hadn't managed to get out of his head yet), he was done for. He trained heavy-lidded eyes on Dom. "You might not have a choice in the matter if you don't stop that," he laughed. Dom froze, and Billy stuttered. "I'm kidding, I would never...Unless you wanted me to."

He pulled Dom down to him by the back of his neck and gave him what he hoped was a convincing kiss. "If it's too much for you tonight, I understand." He mentally kicked himself at that—the qualifier of tonight implied that there would be other nights, and that was asking way too much, Billy knew. He hoped Dom didn't dwell on it.

When he reached down to curl his hand around Dom's cock—now completely familiar to him, God, that was fucking strange—he convinced himself it was in the name of distraction. His strokes were slow and awkward at this angle, so he pulled Dom in for more kisses to make them sweeter. "There's lots of other things we can do."

.

Dom could barely purse his lips against Billy's, his mind scattering in different directions. There was Billy's mouth destroying Dom's braincells just by being so sweet and swollen and still tasting of sex. And then there was his hand, skimming down between them and stroking his cock like he owned it, like he wasn't in any hurry to have Dom explode, the imminence of which Dom struggled against.

And there was that keyword tonight that spoke promises just like trouble did not much earlier, of the mere possibility that this wasn't a one-off, which Dom would think about in more detail if he could concentrate on it long enough.

But no, it was the way, when Billy took his prick in hand, that Dom's hips involuntarily stuttered forward, a move which in turn had Billy's cock move up and down against his most ultra sensitive and very favorite place, in a vulgar mimicry of fucking, of being fucked, of exactly what Billy was making him decide upon. He gasped against Billy's mouth at it, and thrust again into Billy's hand and against the shaft of heat pressing so lightly against his arsehole, and then again, just to feel it, to wrap his head around really doing it.

He exhaled shakily, every nerve in his body singing as he turned his face against Billy's cheek, his own ears on fire at this much give over, as he breathed hotly into Billy's, "I want to. I wanna feel your cock up my arse, Billy, I want it so bad."

.

Billy groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Fuck, that mouth'll be the end of me." To punctuate his point, he turned to Dom and claimed it for himself, tearing more gorgeous whimpers from his throat as they moved against each other. "Sit up, I need to—we'll need something."

Before he could move aside, Billy quickly gripped Dom's arse with both hands, keeping him right where he was—and causing a particularly delicious bit of wet friction between them. "No, stay," Billy shivered, his voice wavering. "Stay right there. You're perfect." He took a deep breath, racking his brain for something they could use, something that didn't require them separating.

Mind cloudy with lust and skin, Billy shifted them over so he could reach one-handed into the bedside drawer. He searched blindly, keeping his other hand on Dom's arse, caressing and kneading. It took no more than a few moments for him to uncover a bottle of lotion with a somewhat sheepish but still satisfied smile. 

"You'll control it. Slow as you need." Billy planted Dom's hands on his chest and motioned for him to scoot up a bit. He pumped a bit of lotion onto his palm and took his time smoothing it over his fingers, then held his hand out to Dom. "Go on." He reached behind Dom's knee with the other hand, smiled when he felt remnants of his own saliva there, and pressed into it, pulling Dom up to a half-kneel above him.

.

Dom nodded, sucking in a deep breath through his teeth and trying to let it out slow. He was trembling again, unable to quell it, stupid nerves. He didn't want Billy to think he was afraid, especially this way, where Billy could lie there and watch his every reaction and stop all this if he thought Dom wasn't handling it.

Billy's slippery fingers slip-slid up his thigh, the lotion semi-warm just from his skin's heat, and smoothed behind his balls, rubbing lightly again at that magic spot before sliding further back, one finger smoothing over his hole, which clenched unconsciously, and Dom couldn't hold in the gasp at such an intimate touch.

Billy did nothing else, just waited, looking up at him with lust and something like concern. Dom closed his eyes to it and pressed his hips down, enough to let Billy finger pop inside him, the feeling weird and yet familiar enough from his own playing. He hacked out a breath, pulsing his pelvis just to move the digit inside him for a minute, biting his lip. It was weird, strange, nasty, and he liked it.

"Another one?" he asked, his eyes fluttering open as he shivered.

.

"Really have done this before, haven't you?" Billy breathed through a smile, watching with affection and amazement as Dom took another finger, not because he could but because he wanted to. 

Billy'd only done this less than a handful of times—and had it done for him even fewer times than that. But it was such a specific kind of feeling, and Billy remembered each person feeling different to him. Dom was no exception; he was warm and inviting inside. Billy thought he felt happy there, as ridiculous as that was. 

The rhythm Dom was setting, the way his whole body went taut on the way up and then flushed and trembling on the way down—it almost felt like what they were about to do, and Billy felt his cock throbbing in anticipation. The colors were overwhelming: the pale slick sheen of Dom's chest and shoulders, the lovely purple-brown of his nipples, his little gash of a red mouth, and the cut of his deep blue eyes. He made himself so naked for Billy, the way he took in breath after shaky breath as he pulsed his hips, darting his tongue out as if to taste the sex on the air. God, he was bloody magnificent already.

Yeah, there was no way Billy was lasting long.

Instead of shutting his eyes to it, Billy egged the feeling on. "When you do this for yourself," he murmured, "what do you think about?"

.

His breath was skipping starts and ends as every shift and pull seared through him in doing this, Billy watching, Billy's fingers fucking him. The were a hell of a lot of embarrassing things Dom would and could do in public, cameras everywhere, but he had never felt so exposed as this.

Billy's fingers were narrower than his own, how often he'd sat waiting for call staring at them, watching them pick out a rhythm on a guitar, jot notes on the pages of his script, play video games. He reached down to urge another in, three, and slowed, clenching his jaw. He'd only ever done two himself, but Billy's cock had more girth than his own, and Billy's cock was what he wanted.

He dropped his head, hiding the discomfort as best he could, though even his erection had waned a bit, and Billy never missed anything.

He braced on one hand and dragged his fingernails lightly over Billy's chest, through the hair and over a nipple, traced the line of muscle, every inch masculine. "Think of men. Cocks. Think of fucking."

He braced again and pressed, grinding against the pain, moaning at the way his arse protested the intrusion, and then didn't. "Wanna feel you fucking me."

.

Despite his crude show of bravado, Dom couldn't hide that rebellious bit of pain from Billy; after all, Billy knew how it felt. That and their connection—that invisible string that kept them joined long after Peter called cut—kept Billy in tune with it.

Billy'd been around the block and then some, a fact they all apparently considered mandatory ribbing material for the duration of shooting. But he didn't take love lightly. He knew when it was too soon to love, but he also knew when it'd been too long to deny potential. He didn't love Dom yet, but he knew that he could, he'd known for weeks now, and after tonight, he knew that he would. 

It would happen like an avalanche, and he'd welcome the torturous joy of it. He'd have his share of jealousy—Dom was young and vibrant, and everyone wanted him, and for someone as possessive as Billy, it would prove difficult—but tonight, he had him here to himself, and he would enjoy every moment of it.

"Needs a bit more time, love," the endearment fell from his mouth, unbidden and a bit silly. "Trust me." When he saw Dom was getting impatient, he gently urged him onto his back. "This'll be better." 

The adjustment brought Billy to a hovering position above him, Dom laying with both legs bent, one open and to the side and one pulled toward his chest, a proud display of that flexibility Billy lusted over. With this extra leverage, Billy slowly, gently pushed all three fingers deeper, searching, and Dom's pupils went impossibly dilated, his face tense and flushed. "Alright?" Billy whispered, bringing his other hand up to cradle Dom's cheek and brush his forehead.

.

On his back like this felt crazy, even more so than before. It was a give Dom was unused to, feeling flayed wide open and at Billy's mercy, under his control. It was a submission in more than one way, and far more than just a sexual one.

Trust me, Billy said, and that as all of it. Dom trusted Billy far beyond what he typically allowed of friends, and in recent years of more than friends too. It had happened without his consciousness of it falling into place, and it had happened in such a short span of time, and that was dangerous.

Especially when Billy worked his fingers in deep, far deeper than Dom could reach himself, brushing places inside that spangled his vision with brightness at so much burn and sensation at once, in this position less painful and more accepting. A moan shuddered out of him at it, and he reached to grip Billy's forearm, to feel the tendons in his arm work, to feel both at once from the outside and in. "God, Billy," he stuttered, finding Billy's eyes, seeing want and adoration there.

It was the tenderness of it that had him nearly undone when Billy touched his face, his hand cool where Dom's face was burning hot, and he brought his own hand up to hold it there against his cheek, his fingers falling between Billy's, turning minutely to kiss the heel of his thumb to show just how alright he was. He tried to meet the rhythm Billy's fingers set with his hips.

.

At a certain point, Billy almost didn't need to do any work anymore; Dom started shamelessly grinding himself down onto his fingers, fucking himself deep and hard now, obviously still feeling pain but also something else that must've made it worth it.

Billy's concern quickly fell away, and their collective breaths came quicker and heavier, Dom's splintering off into high, searching moans at the end. God, it was so filthy, watching Dom, always so quick with a quip—and even quicker with his temper—coming apart underneath him and begging for more. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," Billy gasped, overwhelmed. 

"Have to get inside you now," he muttered, pulling all three fingers out and reaching for the condom he'd set aside with the lotion. He tore the packet open with his fangy little teeth and handed it to Dom, shuffling between his legs on his knees. "Put it on me."

.

Dom sat up somewhat awkwardly, pelvises snugged close together, one leg splayed to the side and the other draping over Billy's bunched thigh, gripping Billy's shoulder for balance as he worked the condom on properly. This at least he had experience with, and one-handed too, even if the angle was sort of odd.

That word stuck in his head, stuck and fluttered with Billy's growly lilt, bouncing off his heart and his nerves like a pinball – gorgeous. No one had ever called him that, in passion or otherwise. He brought both hands up to cup Billy's face, to kiss him deep and breath him in for a moment, savour it just in case it never came around again. It was a stroke to his ego big enough to settle and let Billy do this to him, for him.

He reached for the lotion and pumped a bit more out, smoothing it over the latex, muttering apology at the slightly jump Billy gave at its coolness at first. He watched his hand on Billy's cock, something he'd hardly touched throughout all this, and belatedly wondered if he'd get another chance to explore it further another time. But Billy dropped his hand to his wrist and stilled it, stopped him, his jaw tense enough to betray how far gone he was.

Dom kissed his chin, open-mouthed against stubble, before he lay back, pulling his knee up to give Billy more access. "I know it'll hurt," he said softly, taking a deep breath to center himself, "Don't stop for that."

.

Billy looked down at Dom, amazed at how far they'd come—how far they were going, he thought with a smile. "I can't make any promises," he responded automatically. Billy was a caretaker to a fault; no matter how far gone he was, he was physically incapable of putting his own needs before someone else's, let alone someone he cared about this much. "'M not sure it'll last long enough to hurt, anyway," he laughed breathily, hoping to distract from the utter seriousness of the moment.

He gripped the root of his cock with one hand as he lined himself up, bracing himself against the mattress next to Dom's shoulder with the other. He slowly pushed just the head inside, searching Dom's face for any signs of pain. When Dom merely looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he used Dom's thigh around his waist to pull himself more than halfway in, which nearly stopped his heart. It was easier than he thought it would be, but Dom was still clenched so unbelievably tight around him, slick and burning hot, and he let out a breathy huh. 

Dom's eyes were closed, his back arched and squirming. Billy brushed a hand over his eyelids. "Alright? Almost there." When Dom opened his eyes, it was with a look that said Come the fuck on already, Boyd, so Billy quickly pulled himself the rest of the way in and they both gasped.

Now that they were flush like this, Billy was close enough to feel Dom's shallow, hitching breaths on his face. "Shhh," Billy cooed, kissing down his cheekbone. "We're there." He pressed a deep, breathless kiss to his mouth. "We're here."

.

Groaning into Billy's mouth, Dom fought the pain. It did hurt, like hell, having something that deep inside him, but there was also that intense overstimulation he'd felt with Billy fingering him, this plus Billy's firm little body plastered against every inch of him from his arsehole to his mouth and everything in between.

He tore his mouth away to throw his head back and shift down, his foot clasped at Billy's kidney level and pulling him further up, changing the angle just a little, but enough that it rocked Billy's prick right over his prostate and shot a spiky wave of bliss through him.

"Ah!" he gasped loudly at it, immediately wanting more, not caring that it hurt anymore. He wound one hand in Billy's hair and slid the other down to grab his arse, to feel the dirty clench and release of it while Billy fucked him.

"Do it," he panted, "Jesus, Billy, move."

.

That Dom knew how to get Billy where he wanted him—and that he wasn't hesitant about doing it—made Billy's head spin. Dom would want to do this again, Billy would make sure of it. He wriggled his pelvis, brushing against that lovely place again, just to get a feel for it before he pulled back out. Dom gave a little gasp of surprise at that, clenching Billy's hair and skin even tighter.

Billy gripped Dom's muscled thigh possessively, sliding all the way back in and up, twisting at the end there in a way that made them groan against each other's mouths. "Fucking hell," he exhaled, pulling back and doing it again. The noises that started spilling out of Dom's mouth the deeper Billy penetrated were fucking maddening, and he wanted more of them. He used his knees and his free arm for leverage and started fucking Dom in earnest, putting some genuine muscle into it as he pumped into him.

Before long, they started working together, Dom doing his best to pull him even further inside at the end of each stroke, his fingers hard and relentless in his hair and on his arse. Billy was sure Dom would leave fingerprints, and he didn't mind. He looked down at them, rocking together, the juncture of their bodies where his prick disappeared into Dom, Dom's hands on his skin, Dom's cock flush against his stomach, nearly purple and drizzling terribly. Billy couldn't reach it with his mouth, so he ducked his head and licked and bit at one of Dom's nipples instead, never faltering in his rhythm. "Wish I could suck your cock while doing this. Have you deep in my throat and me deep in your arse."

.

Dom shivered at the vicousness of Billy's evil little teeth on his nipple, soothed by his tongue, riding the advance and retreat of too much and not enough, the feeling of Billy driving into him. And the sound of it, fuck, the way Billy's thighs and balls slapped damply at his arse, the protest of the bed, mattress creaking, headboard occasionally thwacking the wall on particularly hard thrusts, the sounds coming from his own throat. Dom sounded like a fucking porn star, moaning and grunting, whimpering, and he did not care a rip, only wanted to keep feeling this.

Billy looked unbelievable, sweat dripping from him, his hair damp with it, his face going between tense sneers of concentration and slack mouthed ecstasy. And he spoke of filthy things, throwing impossible images, ratcheting Dom up further.

He gripped Billy tight and heaved, flipping them back over and dislodging Billy's cock from him when he struggled to keep them from going off the edge of the bed. Dom shifted Billy bodily over before reaching back to guide his cock back in, wriggling until he was settled back inside. He leaned down, just long enough to lay a biting kiss on Billy mouth. "I'm getting you into yoga, then."

He sat up, the feeling of Billy buried deep inside him like this amazing, lifting with his quads and his stomach muscles and dropping back down. It wasn't as much movement, but the farther back he leaned the harder Billy's cock scraped over that spot, near painful when he arched, letting his head dropped backward with a whimper as he wrapped his hand around is own cock. "I don't know if I can come, Bill. ‘S like I'll fly apart if I do."

.

When Dom started to flip them over, Billy's synapses fizzed and shorted out. He can't be—oh God he is. He clenched his eyes shut and took deep, deep breaths. His prick was going to explode. Dom was going to ride him and his prick was going to explode.

When he opened his eyes, Dom looked almost godlike sitting astride him, his head tilted back in gratitude. The minute Dom started pulsing, wriggling his way up and down on his cock, Billy lost all brain function altogether. He could do nothing but lay there, hands on Dom's thighs to feel the burn of effort there, and let his mouth go completely. "Mmmnn fuck fuck, Dom, you look so good like that. God." He tipped his head back into the pillow. "Fuck me, fuck me harder." 

That's when Dom really put his yoga to work and started corkscrewing brutally down onto him. "Ah! God." He couldn't help it; he reached back to grip the metal rails of the headboard with both hands, bent his knees, and started rolling his hips into it, making Dom's jaw drop and his hand start squeezing his own cock tighter and faster. "Come on. Come for me. Come all over me."

.

The sight of Billy coming unglued was a fantasy on its own, seeing him squirming and panting, hearing his voice break over words Dom never thought he'd hear this man, or any man say. It made him comply in earnest, the big muscles in his thighs on fire, but forgoing himself to sit up straight and bounce on him, fucking himself as hard as he could stand down on Billy's cock.

When Billy braced himself and drove back, meeting every thrust it spelled game over for Dom, meltdown. It was too much with Billy urging him to come, ordering it. He fisted his cock hard with cruel twist, his balls so tight he could hardly stand it, and still it eluded him.

He gave a near sob of frustration, "I can't, Billy, I can't..." until all the tingling sensation gathered and solidified and then shattered outward, his cock pulsing with incredible force, come reaching near to Billy's nipples as he keened with relief.

.

"Jesus, Jesus," Billy panted, watching with wide eyes as Dom obeyed him in every sense of the word, coming all over his chest in seemingly endless pulses. And God bless him, he still kept sliding up and down Billy's cock through it all, albeit with half the urgency.

Billy released the metal bars behind him to grab hold of Dom's hips, almost scorchingly hot now pressed against his hands, and drove into him from below. He was only a handful of thrusts off from Dom, but that stretch of time felt really hazy and drawn out, and then suddenly, when it finally happened, Billy shut his eyes to it, the image of Dom above him desperately fisting his cock burned behind his eyelids. It came in rolling waves that exploded when they crashed, leaving him practically melting into the mattress.

"Christ," he breathed, more blissed out than he can ever remember being, throwing one hand above his head and letting the other run up and down Dom's side. When Dom fell forward onto his chest, no care whatsoever about the mess between them, that hand drifted around and over his back, stroking it softly. "Okay?" he laughed breathily, moving to finger the now genuinely sweaty hair at Dom's nape.

.

Hunching his back and raising his hips enough to make Billy slip out of him was the only move Dom attempted, it was just too much, too oversensitive and overstimulated to remain that way. He lay still, as still as possible, muscles quaking with the effort he'd given, his face pushed into the hot space between Billy's neck and shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, unwilling to move.

Dom knew the sight of Billy coming would be burned into his memory forever. The way his eyes went wide and liquid and then closed as his mouth opened, the way his teeth clenched and then dropped back open...

It was several minutes and a second more concerned inquiry from Billy that had him shift a hand over to cradle the opposite side of Billy's face. He fervently reassembled the scattered bits of his brain until it was enough for him to realize Billy probably really wanted the condom off, and pushed himself up on hands and knees.

"Made a mess," he murmured, looking at the come, his come, dampening and sticking in Billy's chest hair before he shifted off, but only enough to curl against Billy's side, smoothing and rubbing the dampness into his skin. He wasn't quite willing to let this go and let Billy go yet. He couldn't help but be scared of what would happen next.

.

Billy felt an insane rush of relief when Dom finally spoke—and it wasn't to express pain or regret. He looked down at Dom's hand toying with the mess on his stomach like a kid at play and laughed. "Yeah, shouldn't have taken that shower." 

Dom let out a tired laugh in response, and then that first predictably awkward silence fell. It wasn't a bad awkward, thankfully; Billy could feel that in the way that Dom so readily snuggled up to him now. It was just a confused, expectant kind of awkward. Things had to change between them; even if this wasn't the start of something, they couldn't interact the way they used to. Billy looked down at Dom to find him already staring up at him with the same wonder that Billy felt bubbling up in his own chest.

They examined each other's faces. What was there to say? There was too much, really. Neither of them could have predicted what had just happened, and even if they could have, they couldn't have predicted it to have gone the way it did.

Billy smiled down at him, bringing a hand to the side of his face, caressing. He shimmied down a bit, turning so they lay face to face, and let his body speak for him, leaning in and giving Dom a long, languid kiss.

.

Dom parted his mouth to Billy automatically, perhaps a bit robotically in response, his frayed nerves firing sparks at everything he was trying to put together here. He and Billy had just had sex, and not just your average fooling around with a mate for a giggle sort. They'd fucked with just about everything they had, the physical repercussions of which Dom was going to feel for a week, at least. The emotional ones considerably longer.

The previous week or so spun around in his mind, all the stress and irritation of problems on set being dealt with in stupid games and jokes, jokes turning into innuendos, innuendos into performance for the benefit of relieving a little tension for everyone around to see. And underneath it all had been something, a heat, a spark just catching on every tiny bit of tinder it could find, until they'd needed to release it all and found themselves at the pub between a lot of whiskey and a pair of bloody twins.

And after all that, after the flame took and then burned through everything in its path like an unstoppable wildfire, Billy was still kissing and petting him like he wanted this, wanted more, and that was terrifying. Dom knew himself well enough to know that he was already falling, had been even before this happened. And when he fell, it was inevitably hard.

He pulled back, far enough to look at Billy and consider if he could let this just be what it was and have them drop back to where they had been before, mates, costars, Merry and Pip. He licked his lips, Billy's taste there, the smell of sex all over the both of them (Dom himself ponging really bad now), and just wasn't sure he could come out of this without a scratch.

"Didn't see that coming," he dropped, hoping it would cover his heart over.

.

Seeing Dom's lips move around that voice—and so close—Billy had to kiss him again. "Me neither." He fingered a smudge of eyeliner underneath Dom's eye, watching it disappear in the sheen on his face, then trailed his fingertips down to brush over a deep reddish bite on his neck that Billy'd given him only minutes ago. He smiled. "You look like you've been in a fight."

When Dom lowered his eyes and blushed—blushed, after all that—in response, Billy had to tamp down the urge to just fucking blurt out I adore you and call it a night. He thought of how wild, rough, and alive Dom was whenever they all went out, usually on the pull. To see him like this, so pliant and open, eyes wide and searching his own for answers or instructions, Billy already felt the loss of it. He didn't want this new Dom to go away; he wanted to keep him for himself, and not just tonight. But Dom was so young and on his own for the first time, really, and on the other side of the goddamn world, no less. The last thing Billy wanted was to make him feel tied down after only a few months of playing around. 

That whole scene didn't appeal to Billy anymore, that much was evident in his own decision-making earlier in the evening, in whatever made him drive two very hot and willing Kiwi girls home. Well, at least it didn't appeal to him nearly as much as this did, or would. Whatever this was, or would be.

He tried to shake all these thoughts out of his head. "Up for a shower?" he murmured. When Dom groaned in tired protest, his smile went wider and he mustered the energy to pull himself upright. "You'll sleep better. Trust me." Dom's eyes lit with recognition: the pair of words that started this whole thing. When he didn't budge, though, Billy fell back to the mattress and tried to coax him with a soft open kiss. "Come on, you'll just have to stand there. I'll take care of you."

.

A surrendering noise slipped out of him into Billy's mouth. Christ, he thought, as his heart squeezed hard, he's already got me. The tenderness with which Billy touched his face after the ferociousness of their coupling, seemingly couldn't stop touching him, didn't want to stop if he was going to fucking wash him too—holy hell, Dom couldn't fight this, couldn't climb back up the cliff he was hanging from, he just didn't have the energy.

He sat up and let Billy pull him slowly into a standing position, and fucking ow. He felt like he'd be run over by a train.

"I don't think I'll be up for surfing tomorrow, Bill," Dom said, a mite sheepishly, his own hands unable to keep off Billy either, apparently, as his hands found Billy's waist. Naked, condom still clinging to his softened prick. His own hand slipped down, nearly to it, checking himself again spastically.

Holy Christ, he and Billy just had sex, mindblowing crazy good sex, and Billy was guiding him over to that goddamn fucking bathroom door where he would put his hands all over Dom's body again, more, and there was no way Dom was going to just let this go.

His forehead fell to Billy's on a stuttery breath. "I don't know what to think of you," he whispered, but out loud. Filter not functioning at all, possibly MIA entirely. Fuck.

.

Billy was taken aback again, impressed, by Dom's candor, and more than a little embarrassed that he hadn't been the one to lay it all out on the table like that. "What do you mean?" he asked, barely above a whisper, though he knew exactly what Dom meant. Instead of providing a proper answer, Dom merely busied himself with the hair on Billy's chest. Billy tilted his head up by the chin and kissed him softly again. "Come on." He urged him through the bathroom door.

He finally eased the condom off carefully, shaking his head at how too far gone he'd been to do it up until then. Dom stood tall and serious by the sink while he ran the shower and adjusted the temperature to something both soothing and forgiving. He pushed the curtain aside and let Dom in first, watching his shoulders finally relax under the spray. Billy climbed in on the other side and shivered, the sweat finally starting to dry and cool on his skin, raising goosebumps.

Billy pulled the shampoo down from the ledge and poured a generous dollop into his palm, approaching Dom from behind and drizzling it onto the crown of his head. As he worked up a vigorous lather, the protest in his biceps reminded him of that little height difference between the two of them that he often forgot about. He tipped Dom's head forward gently with the heel of his hand and watched the suds chase each other down the smooth sinews of his back and over the rise of his arse. He reached for the bar of soap and lathered up his hands, then brought them to Dom's shoulders, simultaneously washing and kneading the muscles there. "You'll thank me for this tomorrow, I promise." He smiled, feeling Dom go pliant under his hands. "Me and your yoga teacher."

He watched his fingers push and pull at Dom's pinked skin as he went over his voiced concern in his head. I don't know what to think of you. Now wasn't the time for evasions, or even pretty, seductive words. "Dom, I—I don't want you to feel pressured." His palms moved firmly down the span of Dom's back, thumbs spiraling on either side of his spine. "And I don't want you to feel like you owe me something. I did this because I wanted to. I've wanted to for weeks now, to tell you the truth. ...And I'd want to do it again, in case I haven't made that clear." His fingers spider-walked around to embrace Dom's hipbones, pulling him closer so they were nearly flush. "I'd do it again right now, if I thought I could. But, ehm." He hesitated, breathing into the heat of Dom's neck and listening to it echo off the tiles. "I don't want to hold you back. I want you to feel like you can do anything you want to here." Billy couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the mental clarity that came from having the best orgasm of his life, or some combination of the two, but the words just started spilling. In seconds, he slipped from honest to shameless, and there was no turning back. "I know you forget sometimes, but I'm not young like you, or Elijah, or even Orlando. I know I can be fun, but I'm not exciting, not like that. I just don't want you to feel like you're missing out on something else because of me." He felt Dom go deathly silent and still in front of him, so he pulled him back against his chest, mouth right up against his ear to drive the point home. "I want this. I want you. I really, really do. We don't have to be exclusive if you don't want to, but I don't have to like it." He reached one-handed for the soap and started lathering up Dom's chest. "There. Have I rambled enough for one night?"

.

Dom stood in the spray, just this side of hot and the pressure drumming on his aching muscles, helping to whisk away the tension along with Billy's fingers, scrubbing the gel out of his scalp and massaging as he washed. At first efficient, almost methodical, like a nurse, but then he started talking and his fingers slowed, speaking of wanting this, wanting it again, his voice and his touch going sultry about wanting it now, barring the improbability, and Dom, though his eyes were closed and he was exhausted, was listening intently.

Through he last bit of Billy's speech, he was grasping for that filter of his and wanting to make damn sure it was fitted into place, because some of what Billy said was truth, was even right on the money, the way Dom had come down here a free agent and fully intent on making the most of it. But... that was before.

He turned, pushing Billy back up against the tiled wall, clutching and kissing him hard, bruisingly hard, angrily closing off any chance for breath for both of them to keep all the answers he had for that inside.

You say you've wanted it for weeks. You say you did it because you wanted to, but who was it who did it, really, Bill? Who strode in here and finally fucking told you that we both wanted this? It was me. ME.

Who the fuck was Billy to think he wasn't exciting? Dom spent every waking hour with him, and he still wanted more, craved it, being in this man's presence, just to try to absorb some of the fucking magic he had. Dom didn't want to talk about whether or not one of them wanted more than the other. The whole idea was too new to comprehend right now.

He pulled back, scraping his teeth over Billy's bottom lip, hoping the filter would hold back anything else that could throw this to the wolves, trying to calm the fierceness he knew was in his face, taking a deep breath of the steamy air.

He shook his head, giving it up, and nuzzled his nose into Billy's. "M' sleepy."

.

Billy sighed and breathed Dom in, his eyes lowering to watch their wet bodies fit into each other. Disappointing was an understatement for Dom's reply (or lack thereof). He swallowed and fought back actual tears, going over all that he'd said in a haze, wondering what he'd done wrong. Any ideas he'd had about giving all of Dom's body his full, undivided attention for the next few minutes went completely out the window.

"'M sorry, I know that was a lot." He gingerly removed Dom's grip from his arms. "I'll just—." He motioned behind Dom, toward the shower head. "Be a minute." He gave him a halfhearted, reassuring smile before squeezing uncomfortably past him, grabbing the shampoo on the way. With his back to Dom, he lathered himself up for the second time that night, eyes shut, breathing, hoping he'd be left alone soon.

.

Fuck. Dom kicked himself, chiding his quick temper.

"Bills, I–" But Billy was already under the spray, probably wouldn't hear him, even if he had any idea what he was going to say. He sighed, squeezing Billy's shoulder hesitantly, and ducked out of the shower. There wasn't another towel in Billy's cupboard or on the rack.

Striding naked back into the room, he glanced around the evidence of the night. Billy's jeans and pants were in a heap by the toilet, his belt on the floor by the bathroom door, his shirt still hung on the knob. The sole towel still curled on the carpet by the dresser with Dom's shirt, and his own jeans strewn, half hanging off the shelf. The bed was in complete disarray, pillows scattered, the quilt falling off to one side, headboard tilted weirdly forward. The entire room stunk of sex.

He went out to the linen closet and of course, Billy didn't have any clean sheets, the fucking nit never did wash unless the circumstances were dire. He sighed, pondering the guest room, where the sheets were at least as clean as the last time Dom slept in them.

This changed everything. In less than an hour, everything that made them BillyNDom was different, and now there was awkwardness and misgivings and an ache in Dom's heart that was far, far worse than the one in his backside, which he'd certainly be feeling in the morning, would feel for ages to remind him of what they'd done and the cost of it.

And here he was, standing in the hall, on the threshold of both rooms again, when the shower turned off, only this time, he was stark naked and dripping and falling off that cliff, and everything was different. When Billy came out of the bathroom this time, Dom was far more afraid of the consequences.

"The, ah—" he said, clearing his hoarse throat. "Your bed is all... so. We could sleep in here," he waited and when Billy didn't speak, he nearly cringed and dropped his eyes to his water-speckled toes, "Or I could take the sofa."

.

Billy nearly rubbed his skin red the way he lathered it up. He'd gone from scared and hopeful to dejected and ashamed, all in a matter of seconds. To be fair, he'd given Dom more than a mouthful to mull over, and before they'd finished washing each other's sweat from their bodies, no less. But how difficult was it for Dom to give him something in return, something to go on? For fuck's sake, a simple Ditto would have sufficed.

He reluctantly shut the water off and made his way out the bathroom door with trepidation, finding Dom dripping in the hallway like a man at a crossroads. When he suggested the guest room, Billy glanced around his own room, taking in the wreckage and reliving flashes from the night against his will.

Ego still reeling, he walked wordlessly to the chest of drawers and retrieved a fresh pair of pants, pulling them over his legs. When Dom quietly suggested the sofa for himself, Billy looked up at him with wide eyes, just to make sure he'd heard right, and decided he'd do anything to get that timid, lost look off of Dom's face.

He bent down, picked up his discarded towel from earlier, and shuffled across the room and over the threshold. He pushed it two-handed through Dom's hair, giving it a gentle drying before holding the towel open end-to-end and wrapping him in it full-body. "Do you need any—" he started, but before Dom could shake his head vigorously, Billy remembered with a smile how he loved being naked, especially in sleep, and especially in this weather. He rubbed up and down his arms and nudged him toward the guest room. "Come on."

.

Hope sprang up in him the instant Billy pushed him into the room, a room he'd crashed in enough times that he was comfortable in it.

The towel he was draped in was already moist from earlier, but he used it anyway to wick off most of the water, shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the drops trickling down the back of his neck. He held it back out to Billy, though it was fairly uselessly wet now, watching him rub his head with it, which looked funny with his pants already on.

There was the inherent possibility that Billy was just being nice, just being Billy and getting him settled before slipping away to sleep in his own stinky bed, or hitting the sofa himself. A possibility that kept Dom on his feet, feeling ridiculous.

When Billy turned back towards the door he gave an involuntary shake of his head and moved fast, grabbed Billy's hand. "Stay." He looped his other hand round Billy's chest from behind, pressing their bodies together, tipping his forehead to Billy's nape. "You are going to sleep in here, right?" He squeezed Billy's hand, feeling idiotic and girly. "I only ask because I'm fucking scared of the morning."

.

The moment Dom's arm wound around him, Billy's heart clenched violently. He shut his eyes, reveling in the feel of Dom's voice vibrating through his skin and right down into his chest, clutching the damp towel in his fist for purchase.

But when Dom made the breathless admission that he was scared, that tidal wave of affection, that need to take care of him quickly gave way to anger. "What d'you have to be scared of?" He wrestled free of Dom's hold and threw the towel across the hall onto the floor of his room, making it part of the grand mess there. "I made myself pretty clear just now, didn't I?" he muttered.

Billy wished he could collect up all those stupid, gushy words he'd let fall so carelessly out of his mouth and onto the shower floor, push them back in for good. It made him panic, how quickly this was getting mucked up, and he didn't quite know who to blame anymore. 

Maybe he was expecting too much from Dom. Either way, sleeping in the other room (the mere thought of which made him cringe) or on the sofa would only be a surefire way to muck things up even further. And Dom wanted him in here, wanted him next to him tonight; that was all that mattered.

Billy finally turned to face him. He took up his hand again, the one he'd just detangled from his own, and brought it to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to Dom's knuckles before reaching over and shutting the door behind them.

.

Dom's eyebrows gathered in the middle, looking at Billy from underneath them as he went back and forth from being fucked off at what Dom had hoped would form an apology, to being resigned to sleeping in here with him. It took everything Dom had to rein in his own temper, the urge to haul off and shout, What am I afraid of? You. Me. THIS.

Obviously, they both knew this wasn't just a random thing that had run its course and would never come up again. Obviously, they both wanted it, had both more or less admitted as much as far as Dom was concerned, seeing as he'd let Billy fuck him. Clearly, emotions were already so involved that they were at an impasse, which had never happened before.

But he was knackered, sore, stung and frustrated beyond his usual capacity now, so he pulled his hand away from Billy's lips and climbed into the bed, making room on the other side, but turning to the wall.

A memory came unbidden, of a moment only a few days ago, when they'd all met Ian McKellen who'd only just arrived. He remembered the cadence of his voice, the way he'd laughed at their antics and said they were all such lovely young men. There'd been a point when he and Billy had been playing off each other, having a back and forth that ebbed and flowed and wove itself around them, a silly topic he couldn't be arsed to remember now. He'd scooted over to get Billy more coffee when his cup got low, Ian hovering by the machine himself.

Well, he'd said, polishing his glasses with a handkerchief and a knowing gleam in his eye, The two of you are quite the pair, aren't you?

He shut his eyes to the feeling of Billy climbing in next to him, completely unwilling to speak, lest he fuck this up so badly that it couldn't be salvaged at all.

.

Billy felt a bit more vulnerable than he would have liked in the guest room, it being Dom's domain, his scent already woven into the sheets after just a few late nights like this (well, not exactly like this).

In the dark, his mind raced, and he could almost hear Dom's racing beside him, as if in conversation. The sounds, the ridiculous, nasty, now slightly shameful pleas that came from both their throats over the course of the night flooded over Billy in a symphonic rush. He worked to push them aside and instead, thought about the first night all the hobbits had gone out together. He couldn't deny now that he'd noticed it even then, the way Dom looked at him whenever he spoke, clung to him with tearful, gasping laughter on every punch line, like he was dying and Billy was salvation.

There was definitely a bit of hero worship at work here. Maybe that's all it was, really: some strange sort of subconscious attempt on Dom's part to get as close to Billy as possible, to know him as well as he could.

What Dom didn't know, though, was that the admiration went both ways. Dom vibrated with an energy, an importance that Billy's sure he never did, even at his youngest and most vital, and probably never would. Who could satiate such a force? Who could match it? 

Maybe they both could use a night of sleep to clear their heads and cool their nerves. And if that meant Dom realizing tonight was the result of impulsiveness (and a healthy dose of whiskey) and he never wanted to do it again, then Billy would simply have to deal with it, just like he'd dealt with everything else in his life.

Still, he hated going to bed like this, the two of them unnerved and unresolved. He shifted onto his side, reached over, and wrapped one arm around Dom's middle, knowing that his touch would be welcome, at least for now. He ran his thumb back and forth along the clean, damp skin of Dom's abdomen, hoping that this small connection would keep them a bit more at ease throughout the night than keeping a long stretch of mattress between them.

Much too tired, confused, and sad to do much else, Billy shut his eyes and hoped for the best come morning.


	9. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December, Wellington ~ 1999

Dom scrunched up his face at the light, steadily pulling him from sleep. He rolled onto his back and stretched, the air immediately leaving his lungs as every muscle protested. The sheets twisted around his naked body as he glanced to the side. Billy wasn't in the bed with him.

He sighed, a thousand images from last night cluttering his brain for attention. A dull throb made itself known in his frontal lobe, testament to the amount of drink with which last night's shenanigans had been brought to light. He tilted his head to look at the clock – 9:40. It shouldn't be surprising that Billy was already up, he was always a better morning person than Dom ever was.

He mopped a hand over his face. Here it was, the Morning After. The morning after he and Billy, his co-star, his best friend, had kissed and sucked and fucked their way to an entirely different level of awareness of each other, something that was indefinitely going to change things. A morning that inevitably would be weird. At the very least, they had the day off.

Cautiously standing up (shite, everything hurt), he listened at the open door. He wanted to be sure of where in the house Billy was, didn't want to startle him, didn't want to be startled himself and have this start on an awkward note. It was already awkward enough. From the kitchen, the coffee pot made perking noises, and there was a telltale rustle of paper, the sound of a mug being set on a surface.

Darting across the hall to Billy's bedroom, he stopped in at the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Traces of eyeliner still clung to his eyelids, having been neglected the night before, when Billy had cut their shower short. A group of red marks trailed down the side of his neck, from where Billy'd nipped at him – he could still hear the heavy sound of his breathing in his ear. He closed his eyes. God, he'd fucked his best friend, a bloke, and liked it. Liked it a whole fucking lot. Enough that this train of thought wasn't helping his need to pee with a substantial erection already, just thinking about it. He twisted on the taps to splash his face and chest with cold water, digging out a facecloth to scrub off the eyeliner. He toddled around thinking of entirely unattractive things, finally got around to peeing and flushed, knowing full well the sound would alert Billy that he was awake.

In Billy's bedroom, he located his jeans, still hanging where they'd been flung half off the shelves and pulled them on. He dug in Billy's drawers for a fresh shirt, then peeked back at his reflection, raking a hand through his hair, soft and natural since Billy shampooed the gel out for him.

He paused on the threshold of the rooms, leaning against the wall to gather his courage yet again. Billy had said last night that he wanted this. He wanted to be with Dom. Had wanted it for weeks. Christ, this was terrifying.

Pushing off, he walked down the hall to the kitchen, finding Billy sat at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper as if this was a perfectly ordinary day. For Dom, though, it was anything but ordinary.

"Hey."

.

It didn't take long for Billy to make the decision to get out of bed. He didn't know much about this morning, but he knew he didn't want to be the one to wake up alone and disoriented. As he gingerly pushed off the sheets, he gave small thanks that Dom was still facing the other direction.

He considered being industrious about the whole thing, going straight to his bedroom and cleaning it, tearing the sheets off the bed and stuffing them into the wash, doing his best to make it look like the whole thing had never happened. But he found it was far easier to just keep walking, keep his eyes on the floor and his breath held.

He shut his eyes as he shuffled into the kitchen, arms and thighs aching and cock already stirring, pleasantly used though it felt. Dom was still all over him, and he felt every molecule in his body unwilling to let him go.

There'd been signs, definite signs that it wasn't a one-off for Dom, either: the sounds that got caught in his throat whenever Billy kissed him, the look in his eyes afterward as they faced each other in bed, the way his fingers clung to him with a need Billy couldn't have imagined. But all he could focus on now was the fact that he'd laid pretty much everything about where he stood on the table, and Dom had given him nothing in return, at least nothing verbal. He wanted to make this morning as painless as possible, but his pride wanted him to be a prick to Dom a bit longer, make him feel guilty, even.

Billy knew Dom was awake before Dom probably realized. Besides having a keen sense of hearing, they were in Billy's flat, after all, and he'd become accustomed to the slightest noises people made in his space. As he fixed himself a cup of coffee, he could picture Dom twisting in the sheets, looking at the empty space beside him, sitting up in bed, throwing his legs over the side and rising.

He made sure to be set up at the table by the time Dom emerged (if that ever happened), drinking and reading the paper like he'd been there for hours instead of just minutes. Finding himself unable to actually read anything, he let his eyes scan the words blindly as he listened to Dom's progression from the guest room to the bathroom to Billy's own room.

When Dom made himself seen, shuffling into the kitchen with far more trepidation than Billy would have expected, his heart gave a stupid flutter. Dom was wearing one of his shirts. And it didn't help that he was now a walking tapestry of the night before, of the progress his own fingers and teeth had made. There were bruises all over his neck. Billy'd been so greedy. He nearly forgot to answer. "Morning," he said finally, his voice not quite working the way it should, even for morning.

He couldn't help watching Dom move to make his own cup, the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took deep, controlled breaths. Words Billy had only fleetingly thought to apply to Dom before, he found himself now embracing with open arms, creating a map with them across the planes of Dom's face and figure: Adorable. Mysterious. Tempting. Exotic. Sensual. Beautiful.

Billy's pride was already fighting a losing battle. He wanted to touch him again already, desperately; he had to hold an arm across his own abdomen to stop himself from shooting out of his chair.

.

Dom puttered with the sugar, pulling the milk from the fridge, keeping Billy in his peripheral vision. He took a sip of the coffee, too sweet. He rarely drank the stuff, but he was stalling, and needed something to do with the hands while Billy had his eyes on him. He could feel it with every hair on his body, could sense it even without looking, with the solid fucking knowledge that Billy looked at him now with desire in mind.

Part of him wanted to like it, to bask in the light of it, but at the same time, they'd made a mess of this and more, of themselves, and Dom needed that to be repaired before he could think of touching Billy again. Not only for his own sanity, and their friendship, but because there was still an entire year of work to do in close quarters here.

He took a step toward the table, paused and leaned a hip against the counter instead, taking another sip and rolling the sticky sweetness of it across his tongue. "I... ehm. I was thinking we could go out to breakfast. To Fidel's, or somewhere else, if you want?" he asked, finally bringing his eyes to Billy's face. Mostly, he wanted them out of this place and away from that bedroom, to go somewhere neutral where, should this turn one way or another, they would have to hold themselves in check. But he smiled as heat came to his face already at just how much that sounded almost like a date. Might as well take it all the way, then. "I'll buy."

.

Billy's face broke into a smile, too. He dropped the paper, and along with it, the act. "Sounds good." He was grateful that Dom obviously wasn't itching to get away from him—even if they couldn't talk to each other, at least Dom was willing to try. "I'd kill for an omelet."

Billy looked him up and down, searching for signs of discomfort or pain. "How're you feeling?"

.

Dom abandoned his mostly full mug by the sink, crossing an arm over his chest and pressing it in to stretch out his shoulders, then repeating with the other. Honesty was probably going to be best today, if he wanted to salvage things.

"I'm ah... kind of sore. Everywhere," he muttered quietly, looking down at the floor as he felt his cheeks heat further, and quickly added, "'S alright, though. I don't mind."

Billy rose from the table and Dom shifted his feet, nervous. "Do you want to walk? Might be good to move around a bit."

.

Billy took his time approaching the sink; it began to occur to him that maybe Dom had an agenda, maybe one he'd even decided upon last night before going to bed, pissed though they both were. Billy watched his shoulders shift under his own shirt and quietly sucked in a breath. "Sure. Whatever you want." In fact, Billy thought, that would probably be a good attitude to take from here on out. If Dom was going to be any more forthcoming than he'd been the night before, he was going to do it on his own terms.

His heart set off again as he moved into Dom's space to toss his mug in the sink. He reached behind Dom's back to twist the tap and fill it with water. That Dom didn't jump clear to the other side of the kitchen when he did was a good sign, he supposed. Every single part of him wanted to pull Dom closer, rub his shoulders, work the pain out of his body, get more of the clean, sleepy scent of his hair—all but his brain, which told him to keep his hands to himself. His terms, remember. "Just let me get some trousers on," he said before moving back to his bedroom.

.

Dom exhaled as Billy left the kitchen, turning to pour his own mug down the drain and rinse it. Everything about this was off. There was careful space where there had never been before, Billy was being cautious in a way he never had been before. And Dom couldn't even trust himself, as tactile as he typically was, especially with Billy. When he'd leaned close, Dom could smell the just woken scent of him, the coffee aroma that lingered on him in the mornings, something he'd been accustomed to in early rides to set, and one that had become a comfort.

He wanted to fix what they were before, and at the same time, he wanted to explore this new thing. Maybe it was a bit selfish. He didn't like the idea that he was using Billy as a sort of test of himself, of something he thought he'd put away. He decided, firmly, that if this was happening, then it happened for the same reason as with any girl. Because they both wanted it to.

Billy came back clad in jeans and a short-sleeved button down. Pocketing his housekeys, he held open the door, gesturing Dom out into the bright summer morning.

.

It took a world of effort for Billy to not shut his eyes and hold his breath as he walked through his room—it was more of a map of last night than Dom. And, unlike Dom, it still smelled like last night.

The first thing Billy did was throw both windows open. He glanced over his shoulder at the bed: sheets pushed horribly askew and still a bit damp, pillows with their head imprints still there, headboard just off enough to send a vivid flash of that moment through Billy's mind. He flushed, walking to the dresser and pulling it open with force. That wasn't sex last night; that was fucking madness.

He didn't pay much attention as he selected and pulled on a shirt and jeans. Dom wasn't just a costar—Merry and Pippin were appended to each other, at least for most of the shoot. Their chemistry was an essential part of the story, an essential part of both of their performances, probably the essential part. And he and Dom potentially jeopardized all that a mere handful of months into a years-long enterprise. This was professional fuck-up on a massive scale. And on the first big film for the both of them. There wouldn't be a second chance at a first impression.

Billy gathered up the damp towel by the door and threw it into the hamper with a little more force than necessary. How could he have let himself say all the things he'd said last night? Now they'd go to Fidel's, Dom would probably say it had all been a huge mistake, and that'd be that, but the shame of those words would linger in Billy's mind until the day they parted, he knew.

This had to be fixed, and he simply didn't know how. He didn't even really know what "fixing" entailed yet.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and took a breath to calm himself before emerging again, pocketing his keys, and leading them out the door. He squinted into the sunlight, feeling stupid without his glasses—they were a comfort he could've really used.

.

Dom surreptitiously stole glances at Billy as his feet took them down the well known path to Cuba Street. His quads ached, and just as he'd predicted, that fierce bite was rubbed up against his inseam with every step. His back twinged and his wrists didn't rotate without a little reminder of pain. And his arse hurt. He felt sore and chafed and fucked.

Billy walked beside him, squinting against the light with his hands tucked in his pockets. But his jaw was set, clenched, the way that betrayed his casual strolling air. Not ordinary for him either, then, but Dom wasn't entirely surprised.

"I guess we really put our feet in it now," he started quietly, looking up at Billy finally. "Are you okay?"

.

"Been better," he answered automatically with a rueful little laugh.

The sun felt good, a welcome change from the stifle of Billy's flat, but it had the disadvantage of making Dom all the more tempting, making his chameleon eyes crystalline and silhouetting his hair. Billy's squint turned into a grimace as he started to feel a persistent sting toward the crown of his head, on the right side. He remembered how he got it—Dom holding him there by the hair, pushing him further inside like his own personal rag doll—and had to turn away, clenching his eyes again, as if that would erase the memory.

There had always been an ease between he and Dom, rarely a silence, and never one that was uncomfortable. Billy supposed they'd struck a perfect balance between Dom's volatility and his own never-ending capacity for understanding. He couldn't hate that dynamic more right now; much as he was proud to be the peacemaker, he never wanted to be the pushover.

His voice went quiet. "Before we get into it, ehm... I want you to forget what I said last night, in the shower. Okay?"

.

Dom came to a stop on the sidewalk, sudden enough that Billy got a few steps ahead before stopping to turn himself. "That wasn't something I'm going to just forget, Billy," he said seriously, meeting Billy's hard look with one of his own before he moved on and looked back at the concrete.

They walked to the end of the corner and down to the next drive before he exhaled heavily. "That wasn't my first time. I mean it was, it was the first time for a lot of things, but you aren't the first bloke I've fancied," he looked ahead toward the traffic light for several beats before glancing tentatively at Billy as they waited at the crosswalk, and confessed the rest of it quietly, from behind his fluttering heart, "I do, by the way. Fancy the hell out of you. In case that wasn't obvious from last night."

.

"Dom, I've—." Billy exhaled heavily, trying in vain to not let that final remark flood over and through him. He shook his head, quickly rebuilding the protective shield around his heart. "I don't want you to mistake what you feel about me for something else."

When Dom nearly jumped in place to speak, Billy realized how horrible that'd sounded. "Please, don't take that the wrong way. I didn't mean—." He pulled at his hair, watching the traffic lights change around them. He shoved his hands into his pockets, choosing his words more carefully. "I've been in situations with friends where things have gotten... muddled." He raised his eyes to Dom, who looked about ten times more frustrated than he was. "I just don't want what I said to... influence how you feel about what happened. So I want you to try to forget it."

.

Dom huffed a breath out of his nose before Billy even finished, muttered a curse and turned to the other crosswalk that was open, trotting across. Billy called after him, and he heard his trainers padding fast to catch up, but he kept going and then crossed at the opposite side, getting at least some satisfaction that Billy would chase after him.

He walked briskly toward Fidel's, nearly to the door before Bill caught him by the shoulder. "No," he said, harshly enough that Billy backed off a step, and Dom squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded, "Can we just sit down first?"

Billy hesitated, then nodded and followed him in, not to their usual booth but to a smaller, more secluded one away from the door, one with cushier seats, for one thing. They sat down on opposite sides and feigned through the usual greetings with the waitress, Dom ordering a large orange juice and Billy a coffee.

Once well alone again, Dom shifted in his seat, took a deep breath and looked Billy in the eye. "Don't treat me like I'm fifteen, okay? You think I haven't done the exact same thing with mates before, muddled things up like that? You know as well as I do that this is different, so don't bullshit me. You wouldn't have said what you said otherwise."

.

Billy flinched at that, completely and utterly caught. He shouldn't have underestimated Dom's ability to see through his own load of shite. He shifted in his seat, his heart pounding; they hadn't even gotten their food yet, and already this felt like war.

"Okay. Fair enough." He glanced around, watching the door, the waitstaff (who already knew them all like family), anyone but Dom, really. "I meant what I said. Everything." He blindly reached for the sugar cubes, fiddling with them preemptively. "What do you want to do about it?" Twirling a single cube with both hands, he finally raised his eyes to Dom again, a rush of sensations from the night before sending a shiver through him. He could still taste his darkest places on the back of his tongue.

.

Dom's eyes caught on Billy's and then dropped to his mouth, the air leaving his chest in a huff at the turnaround, the hope, the joyous hope that Billy maybe wasn't regretting every second of the night before. What he really wanted to do was lunge across the table and snog the hell out of him, which was precisely why he brought them here in the first place. Instead his hand came down on that sugar cube, stealing it to pop into his own mouth to give it something else to do. "I want to–"

The waitress chose this moment to come back with their drinks. They hadn't looked at the menus at all, so Dom ordered a breakfast he'd had a dozen times before. He chewed the sugar as Billy did the same, frantically searching in his mind and half a glance at the menu tucked into the condiment tray.

The sugar melted and he swallowed, chasing it with a gulp of juice before looking back across the table. For a minute he stilled himself, just looking, looking at Billy like he so often did, taking in all the things he'd first found ordinary, and then endearing, and then attractive about Billy as he stirred sugar cubes into his cup with the same lovely narrow fingers that had touched Dom all over, in secret places and otherwise. Christ, he was gorgeous and he didn't even know it.

"I want... I like you, okay? Jesus, we've been making eyes at each other for weeks, and I know I was thinking it months ago. Maybe it was too much whiskey last night, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm perfectly sober now and I still want this. You." He turned sideways, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out on the seat, one arm resting on the table and able to just nudge his fingers up close enough to Billy's to touch, just touch him. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm still scared. And you are too."

.

Everything in Fidel's went all fuzzy and quiet when their skin made contact, for the first time since last night, Billy realized. He looked down at their hands, his own fingers still stubbornly clinging to the spoon for his coffee, just two of Dom's long, lovely ones sliding along his knuckles. They locked eyes. Billy gnawed his lip, nodding. "Fucking terrified, actually."

He let the spoon drop, thereby letting Dom's fingers slide under and around, nails scratching lightly across his palm. Billy opened his hand up for him and slowly curled his thumb, almost holding him there. It felt unbelievably intimate, especially after the night before, especially where they were, where they'd spent so many Sunday mornings eating, getting to know each other, and laughing to the point of tears. 

Billy's eyes trailed over the marks dappled over Dom's neck and took a deep, shaky breath. If they were going to talk this through at all, he'd have to stop reliving how they got there and imagining giving him more. "You're distracting me," he exhaled quietly.

.

Dom felt a smile spread, Billy's fingers warm and dry, his thumb possessive against the tendons of his hand. "Sorry," he murmured, not at all truthfully, watching Billy's face finally go open and honest and as frightened as Dom felt, and squeezed lightly before pulling his hand away and going for his glass instead, pushing it around in its puddle of condensation.

He tipped his head back to the wall and gave a sigh, trying to think. It wasn't easy with the entire idea of being with Billy this much closer to possibility. Probability. He thought about these last few weeks, and the two months' worth he'd spent pretending he wasn't thinking about it, assuming for most of it that Billy was more or less straight, at least as straight as he was. Billy liked women, he knew that, but after last night, he suspected Billy was quite a bit more mid spectrum than he'd thought. It was weird they hadn't even talked about this. They'd discussed any number of sexual delights in lewd detail, and yet never made it round to this sticky point.

He gave a light laugh, "I didn't know, you know. Even up to last night, I had no fucking idea if you'd go for it or if you'd knock my teeth out for coming on to you."

.

Billy laughed breathily. "Most people say that. I guess I learned how to hide it a little too well growing up." He took a ginger sip of his coffee, still piping hot. "That and... I don't do this very often," he admitted. "I haven't in years, honestly."

He thought of the few guys he'd fancied in the past, and the even fewer that had actually turned into more than just secret attraction. Billy'd always been very picky when it came to men, probably because of all that was at risk with being involved with one, especially at that time at home. He'd never really had a proper relationship with one, at least not in public. He wasn't sure he could ever be fearless enough for that. Then again, he'd never felt about any of those guys the way he felt about Dom, not even halfway. 

The most terrifying part, though, was that, when he was completely honest with himself, he knew he'd never felt this way about any girl he'd ever been with, either. And it was only bound to grow from here. 

"I wish you'd known that I wouldn't have knocked your teeth out, at least. Even if I were completely straight, I thought you knew me better than that." He shrugged, thinking of some of the uglier misunderstandings in his past. "I guess you can never be too careful, though. Which is why I never came on to you."

Billy sighed, wondering where to go from here. Even as the more experienced one, he was way out of his realm.

.

"I haven't done it in years either, not since uni," Dom elaborated. "And even then it was never more than fooling around, really, it was all just for a laugh."

Billy's jaw clenched up again right when their food came out, and Dom could only give him a little shake of his head while she set all the plates down. "You need anything else, lads? Say, where's that other one today? The one with the Mohawk?"

"Ah... I think he might have been stuck working, actually," Dom lied, searching for the pepper. 

"Too bad," she trilled dreamily, eyeing them, "You two are quiet this morning. Rough night?"

Dom felt his ears fire up immediately, "Yeah."

The waitress tipped him a wink, her eyes crawling over his neck. "Looks like it was worth it."

She turn to leave and Dom peppered his eggs, blushing fiercely. When she was gone, he slid the shaker away and grabbed for Billy's hand again.

"Don't take that badly, okay?" he pleaded, "I didn't do this for a laugh, or some experiment. There's a lot more riding on it, and that's what scares me."

.

Billy tried his best to will away the flush from the waitress' words. Last night, he'd gotten more than a bit of a thrill at the idea of the other guys seeing Dom's neck, speculating, but now that it was real, he was a bit anxious, even bashful about it.

"Then be clearer," Billy prompted, sounding a bit fiercer than he'd hoped. He gently wrested his hand from Dom's and started in on his omelet, a bit ravenous. "What do you want to do?" He knew it was an unfair question, one he wasn't even totally sure how to answer himself, but he had to know more about what Dom was thinking. "I mean, we have a long way to go, Dom. We're going to be working with each other for the next couple of years, at least, between shooting, the movie releases, and everything. It is something we have to consider."

.

Dom picked up his fork and dug in himself, thinking as he chewed. Billy was right of course, they had work to think about. Not just the repercussions of dating a costar, Christ, that sort of thing always got around eventually, but also whether or not it affected the performance. Dom figured it might be okay, after all, Peter always insisted that Merry was meant to look after Pippin, they were thick as thieves, and hobbits were an affectionate bunch anyhow. 

Although sitting across from Billy as they ate, Dom found it nearly irresistible to touch him, now that he could, now that it meant something more than just his typical tactile ways. Just to test that theory, he pushed his foot right up against the inside of Billy's, just to see what happened. That Billy stilled almost completely for a second, his eyes catching on Dom's meaningfully sent a flutter though him. God, he wanted this, with a power that was frightening. 

He dropped his eyes to his plate. "I want to try it. But..." he paused, choosing his words, "Maybe we should just... slow down a little. I won't be able to concentrate at work, if it's always so... wild like that. And I don't know how much I want the others knowing. Ian knows already, I think. He knew before we did."

.

"I agree," Billy said automatically, pulling his toast apart. He was nowhere used to the idea of his and Dom's friendship evolving in that way, not yet—the idea of introducing it to their circle of friends, let alone the entire cast and crew, was beyond his comprehension. "Last night was..." he trailed off, feeling Dom's foot against his under the table, seeing him look down at his plate and smirk at the expression on Billy's face. Explosive. Insane. Mind-blowing. "You were, ehm..." He got a flash of Dom naked and panting, straddling him, working his own cock with experienced fingers and fire in his eyes. Billy shifted in his seat, watching the fork disappear into Dom's mouth. He could feel himself getting irrationally possessive already. "I mean, I've never—you're right. It can't always be like that. Not that I wouldn't welcome the challenge."

Dom cheekbones rose with laughter around his food.

Billy backtracked. "Wait. Ian knows?" he laughed. "Did he say something to you?"

.

Dom looked away, fully away at an older couple across the restaurant. The way Billy was looking at him just now, the implications of his half-spoken phrases sent him right back in his head, to some of the things that had come out of Billy's mouth last night, I'll take you just as you are, fuck me harder, gorgeous. It made it insanely difficult to stick to his own words and slow down. 

"He didn't exactly say anything," he said, shrugging, "I mean, he's only been around for a few days. But he said something about us being a pair. It was just the way he said it, you know, with that glint in his eye."

He chuckled, shaking his head before looking back up at Billy and leaning forward to murmur. "Tease. You know I can't resist a challenge."

.

Billy let out a pleasantly frustrated sound under his breath. "What happened to taking it slow?" He jumped a little, feeling Dom's bare foot sliding up along his calf—he must've slid off his sandal under the table. "Cheeky bastard." Dom smiled triumphantly. "Ian, not you." His smile instantly turned into a pout. Billy laughed, a happy rush going through him. This felt good, flirting like they always did but with that edge, that extra bit of potential.

Head cocked pensively, he brought his feet together, capturing Dom's foot between his legs. "I wonder if any of the others have already suspected something. I've noticed Lij giving us looks from time to time. But I think his head would explode if he knew about last night. Mine nearly did when you snogged him a couple of weeks ago." He directed a playfully accusing look across the table.

.

"Payback," Dom retorted instantly, then elaborated when Billy looked confused, "For you snogging Orlando way back when. You lost me ten quid, man, and nearly got me beat up. I shouldn't even buy you breakfast."

He remembered that night in the wood outside of Queenstown, the only day when it didn't rain like the biblical flood. Some of it was fuzzy and fleeting from the liters of alcohol but he remembered snogging Elijah. And he remembered Billy rubbing his foot. The same foot, in fact, that was caught between Billy's legs, the coarse hair on his ankles rubbing.

His heart was going again, pounding, elated that for the first time today, Billy had lost that hard, worried look and instead seemed happy to tease him further. He bit his lip, leveling a sparking look at him, and boldly put his foot on the edge of the seat between Billy's legs, not touching (so fucking wanted to), but right there, to see what he'd do about it.

.

Billy looked down at Dom's bare foot squeaking against the booth, hovering by the ridge of his jeans, blue sparkly polish still clinging stubbornly to the larger nails. The contrast of that and Dom looking so soft, warm, and scrubbed clean across the table made him liable to do something drastic. He took a breath and dropped his fork, letting it clang loudly against his plate, quelling the urge to slouch down so Dom's toes would press perfectly against his crotch. 

Instead, he pondered the word payback, echoing in his mind in Dom's rumbly, still a bit sleep-worn voice. He shot an equally fiery look back at him—Oh yeah?—and picked up his coffee for another few sips. Under the table, his other hand crept down to cradle Dom's foot, his thumbnail drawing a firm line over the ridge of it.

He shook his head, licking the coffee from his lips. "So vindictive."

.

Dom's breath left him in an abrupt whoosh as heat prickled up all over his skin, eyes fastening to Billy's mouth, his tongue, the very same that found his most secret place last night, Billy's mouth all over his cock and behind his balls, his devilish tongue and those wicked teeth pushing him into realms of pleasure he'd only dreamed of. And shit, Billy never missed a thing, did he, if he somehow found that magic spot only Dom knew about, then surely he'd figured out (or maybe was in the midst of figuring out) just how erogenous Dom's feet were.

"Bills," he sighed, leaning back, pushing his foot into Billy's hand, against the very fucking warm inside of his thigh, so very close to his cock. "We were both thinking it then, weren't we? That night in the woods, I could swear you were... I was–oh fuck."

He yanked his foot back down and away as he locked eyes with Elijah and Orlando coming in by the door, hunched over his breakfast plate and brought his hand up to shield his neck.

"Found you! I knew you'd be here," Elijah bellowed, he and Orlando already clad in bermuda shorts as they strode over. "The waves are like six feet high, what are you bastards doing sitting here? Let's go!"

.

"Ehm," Billy started loudly, heart pounding and the table still shaking a bit from the force of his and Dom's collective jump at the intrusion. "Dom's not really feeling well, so... thought I'd get some food in him and take it from there." He smiled and reached for his coffee again, hoping it would still his hands as he slouched down in his seat, hoping that would hide the fact that he was now half-hard in his jeans.

Billy's eyes locked on Dom's hand, big and powerful though it was, not nearly big and powerful enough to cover all the bite marks on his neck, leading under the collar of his shirt. 

"You fucking lushes," Elijah chided, sliding his sunglasses up onto his head. "You did go out last night, after all."

"Yes. Yes we did," Billy answered firmly—the only truth they had going for them. Well, there was another. "Met a couple of girls, didn't we, Dom?"

.

"Er, yeah, actually," he said, pretending to scratch an itch at his nape. "Twins."

"Wait wait wait," Orlando said, swooping around Elijah and pulling Dom's hand away from his skin, "What is this? Oh my. Someone was mouthy."

Dom blushed horribly, horribly, Christ, he had to be fuchsia from his ears to his toes, as the pair of them whooped and Orlando announced with nearly the pride of a father to the whole cafe that Dom got laid last night. Billy laughed, even as he went bright red himself, while Dom got up and took a bow just to appease the pair of them.

"Right, thanks, I got laid. So did Bill, by the way," he muttered as he sat back down and finished his eggs, now going cold. "Like I said. Twins."

"For real?" Elijah beamed, absolutely wide-eyed and admiring, "Twins?"

"Yeah, which would be grand if either of us could remember it, but we can't, so bugger off," Dom invented, glancing at Billy to embellish.

.

"I think you're full of shit," Elijah declared, making himself at home next to Billy. "Did something happen? One of them turn out to be a dude?"

Billy nearly spit his coffee out all over the table, and Dom bit his lip hard to keep from laughing at that.

"No, like, if one was a guy, the other would have to be a guy, too, because they're twins," Orlando explained with an air of wisdom. 

And that made Billy nearly lose his shit; this was going to be so much more difficult that they could've imagined.

"But they could totally be, like, fraternal twins, you know? A boy and a girl. And the dude's a drag queen." Elijah slammed both hands on the table to punctuate his conclusion.

Orlando was already in that space where he was talking too much too fast—probably surfing adrenaline, but it was rubbing off on Elijah and it was too fucking early for the two of them like this. Plus, Billy really wasn't ready to give up this time alone with Dom.

"Well, regardless, they were both convincing, and we're both kind of fucked out," he smiled at Dom, who nodded in agreement, "and hungover, so go surf. We'll catch up with you later." He hoped that'd do it, but he knew it probably wouldn't.

.

Orlando stole Dom's last piece of toast and made to sit beside him, but Dom swung his legs up quick as he could to block him.

Orli pouted around a bite of bread, "Why am I never invited?"

"Because you're from Kent," Dom said pointedly, and got a sudden inspiration, "Hey Orli, when are you going to marry our waitress?"

"Which one?" Orlando looked around, catching sight of the girl coming out of the back, who waved with considerably more eagerness than quite necessary, her tray of someone else's food wavering. "Oh. Lij, we're going." He grabbed Elijah by the arm and hauled him out of Billy's side of the booth.

"Why?" Elijah looked around and laughed, "Oh shit, right. Bye, dudes."

Dom shook his head, watching Orli simultaneously flirt with the poor girl as he hauled Elijah out the door. She wasn't a bad looking girl, but when it came to Orlando she was certainly enthusiastic.

He sat back and blew out a breath, rolling his head over to look at Billy, who was grinning sheepishly. Dom laughed too, shrugging. "One of them was a dude." Other patrons were still darting looks at them since Orlando's grand announcement and the general whirlwind with which they appeared and left. "You want to get out of here?"

.

"I think that's a good idea," Billy cackled, watching Dom quickly motion for and pay the check. "Thanks," he shot a smile across the table, feeling like a bit of a girl.

Billy watched guiltily as Dom slowly made his way out of the booth and rose from the table with a wince. He waited until they were side by side so he could lead him out with a gentle hand at the small of his back—he would've done it anyway, before last night. Still, everything felt different now, even the dynamic between the four of them not a moment ago. And even though he and Dom seemed to be on the same page, that could change at any moment. 

Ordinarily, he'd assume that they'd spend the rest of the day together, talking, playing video games, but mostly doing nothing. They rarely needed more than each other's company to keep them entertained. But they were supposed to be taking things slow, and he didn't want to be presumptuous. He turned to Dom as they emerged in the sunlight again. "Where d'you wanna go?"

.

"Ehm," Dom murmured, highly aware of Billy at his side, walking close enough that their shoulders and elbows bumped and brushed. If they went back to Billy's, or his own place, he knew he wouldn't be able to restrain himself. But even on an ordinary day off, he wouldn't want to be out of Billy's company. Plus he couldn't help but want to talk, ask all the burning questions he'd wondered for months now. He smiled to himself, at the absolute ridiculousness of how this felt like a date, and he felt all jittery and nervous. Wellington's Central Park was a bit of a walk, or a short bus ride away. It had wide expanses of grass and large shady wooded areas, and on a sunny day like this, ought to be full of joggers and picnicking families. "We could head to the park, I suppose."

Billy nodded, and as they set out, Dom considered how much of an exercise in self-control this would be. They had to work together, be on set with the others, pay attention. And keep it covered up, at least for the time being, because clearly they'd never hear the end of it if they didn't.

Plus they had four more days worth of work to get through before they went on break. Dom would be flying home to his parents' house, to spend time with them and Matt, and see all his old friends too. It seemed a year had passed from that life already. "Are you going to Maggie's at Christmas?"

.

Billy was both immensely thankful and disappointed that Dom suggested the park; he knew if they'd gone anywhere private, it'd be game over, at least for him. It was clear now that they couldn't help themselves even in public. "Yeah," he answered absently, getting used to the new feeling of the air between and around them. They were both quieter, but their silences said so much more now; all that buzzing they usually did, the banter, was locked away somewhere, rendered useless and meaningless today. Billy was already wondering if they'd ever let it free again.

He thought of Maggie, for the first time since last night, what he would tell her. She already knew plenty about Dom as a mate, and she'd seemed thrilled that Billy found someone on set that he'd gotten on with so well, but he had no idea how she'd react to this, whatever this was. Maybe Billy would hold off until he had a better idea himself. "I'll probably end up spending more time watching the kids than with her. She practically lives in the kitchen on Christmas." He watched their feet walking side by side, in sync. "What about you?"

.

"Yeah, the usual," Dom nodded, "Mum'll probably have her sister and my cousins in on Christmas Eve, and Matt will show up sometime; I'm sure we'll all get dragged to Mass. I'll probably see my mates for New Year."

They walked at a decent pace, the sun warming their shoulders. The exercise helped a bit, making the muscles in his thighs loosen up, and he raised and crossed his arms behind his head for a bit to stretch his shoulders out further before pocketing his hands again. He looked over at Billy, so fair in the bright sunlight, the freckles showing beneath the fiery ginger tinges in his hair, a complement to the soft light blue plaid of his shirt, the greenstone of his necklace nearly the same color as his eyes. He tried to imagine him in costume, as Pippin, with this new knowledge. It was hard to believe Billy could be so many different people at once. And easy, because he was that good an actor.

Billy darted a glance at him, and he smiled, caught staring. He looked down at his feet and then up ahead. He could see the trees ahead, climbing over the hills the city nestled between, and thought of that night in the woods again.

"When were you thinking about this, Bills?" he murmured quietly, his heart thumping a quiet rhythm against his ribcage. It was so silly, but he needed to know if all the glimmers of possibility he'd had were real. "When did it start for you?"

.

Billy smiled at Dom's question. "Ehm. I think I spent more time pretending I didn't feel that way about you than just letting myself feel it. You know? Even last night, I was paranoid of coming off like some sort of predator or something." He paused, gathering courage from the scenery. "I remember when you first came, when we went out to lunch, just sitting and talking to you... the way things got all fuzzy around us—I mean, we talked about that the first week, how everything else just fell away. And I thought for a split second that maybe that meant something more than we were both letting on." 

Beside him, Dom was stiller than he'd ever seen him, a faint smile at the corners of his mouth. 

He took a deep breath, pocketing his hands. "Then I had a dream—I think it was the third or fourth week—I had a dream that you and I were..." This revelation surprised him more than it surprised Dom, probably; he'd nearly forgotten all about it until now. "Anyway, I tried not to think much about it. Thought it was just the result of us spending so much time together."

Billy remembered how utterly girly he'd gotten about Dom, especially early on, the rush he'd get beforehand, whenever he knew he was about to see him, and the disappointment whenever anyone else would intrude. It wasn't much different from now, come to think of it.

"But then there was this one day we had off, one of the first times we all went surfing. Was my first time seeing you in a wetsuit. I fell asleep on the beach, of course," he intoned before Dom could interrupt, "and I woke up to see you strutting towards me out of the ocean, and you were swaggering all slow because of the sand around your feet." He could still see that image in his mind, Dom wet and glowing and silhouetted by the sun. "I let my eyes drift shut again, and you laid on top of me, soaking wet. I opened my eyes, and it was so much like the dream I'd had, I had to throw you off before it became obvious," he laughed.

.

Dom let his face tip to the blue sky as he laughed heartily at that. "Let me guess, I was Burt and you were Deb, eh? Or was it the other way round?"

Billy shoved him playfully off the sidewalk as they reached the park, and Dom took a deep breath of the fresh mown grass smell, even though he'd probably regret it when his nose started running. He paused as they started across the huge main field, dotted with families and people playing frisbee with dogs, and pulled off his sandals, letting them dangle from his fingers as he felt the soft grass under his feet.

"I remember that now," he said, "I remember seeing you with your arm across your eyes and I wondered what you'd do if I did that. Just as a joke, though, but I wondered. That was the same day you first rode a wave without wiping out, remember? You were all riled about it, all pent up, and I just remember staring and staring and feeling..." he ducked his head, grinning idiotically at himself, "...feeling the same way I feel about watching Becks bend a ball," he paused, watching a collie careen by after a ball. "That was the night we just sat out there, floating on our boards until the sun went down. After the others left."

God, it was silly, so absurd how bloody romantic that sounded, even though that wasn't the intent at the time. At least he didn't think it was. He kept going across the field with Billy in tow, to the footpaths through the wooded part of the park, hoping it wouldn't set off his allergies as much.

.

Before, Billy would've ribbed Dom to death for such a cheesy analogy, that is if he didn't sound so serious—and if it hadn't been directed at him. He remembered the end of that day on the boards with amazement. In hindsight, so many things were starting to make a different kind of sense about he and Dom and the way they interacted.

It was an absurdly gorgeous day, too appropriate for the conversation at hand, but Billy made sure to keep Dom's allergies at the back of his mind. It was a shame he loved the outdoors so much; they always seemed out to get him. Billy often had to toss a little tough love in his direction when he'd insist on staying outside, even when his eyes were all teary and he was sniffling every five seconds.

Billy trailed behind, watching Dom in his element, the sun trying its best to bathe him through the trees, bare feet right at home against the dirt and grass. "When did you know?"

.

Dom looked along the dappled footpath through the trees, slowing his steps for Billy to catch up.

"About a week in. We were ribbing Elijah to death in fight training, and he got upset about it, thought we didn't like him. Shit, I don't even remember the joke anymore, you said something about Flipper and I about peed myself laughing. You were trying to get me to, you started tickling me. And then you flipped me onto my stomach with some crazy ninja move, and sat on my arse with my arm behind my back," he looked up and gave Billy a burning look, knowing his voice was going lower and lower, "Got me rock hard. I couldn't stand up for a few minutes or you'd all have got an eyeful.

"That was just me though," he looked away, "I didn't start thinking you might be bi until that night you kissed Orlando. And even then, I didn't think so. But these last few weeks... you were just pushing it and pushing it, Bill, I just–"

He stopped, watching a jogger go by before dropping his sandals and pushing Billy up against the shady, secluded side of a big tree, his fingers catching in Billy's belt loops as he grabbed for his firm, narrow hips. "Sorry, I just have to–" and he smashed their mouths together.

.

Billy whimpered the moment Dom's mouth latched onto his, grateful, so grateful that one of them had had the balls to finally do it. His hands fumbled, clutching at Dom's shirt—his own shirt—crawling underneath for a bit of skin, just as warm now as it was last night. He groaned at the feel of it under his fingers, pulling Dom so they were flush and he was flush with the trunk of the tree, their feet tripping a bit on the roots below. 

This was new, being under Dom like this, at his mercy. It's not that he didn't know Dom had it in him—quite the contrary, especially after he so decisively flipped them over in bed last night, impaling himself on Billy's cock. He tore his mouth away at that image—"Jesus"—then flipped Dom himself, surprising him with a kiss just as intense but gentler, a slow burn. "That your idea of slow?" He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Dom's already swollen mouth, fingers creeping up to his neck to trail over the bruises there. Dom inhaled sharply into his mouth. "Hmm?" he prompted, working his mouth down over his chin, down to those bruises to work his tongue over the somewhat rough, tender feel of them.

Billy dropped his eyes, saw Dom's collarbone rising and falling with his breath, the ridge of his jeans hard, hot and protruding. "God," he breathed, hands raking over Dom's chest. "Do you've any idea how much I want you right now?"

.

Dom could barely string a thought together with Billy all over him like this, pushing him into the rough bark of the tree, bodies hard and grinding together. It was madness. He'd never felt so wanted in his life, and Billy's words only fueled the fire.

He could only turn his head to capture his mouth again, Billy taking the kiss and turning it into something less raging and more beloved. Dom gave a soft moan at it, complete surrender, bringing his arms up to clutch him close.

He opened his eyes to Billy's, dark as the shadows and swimming, utterly beautiful, and touched his face, smiling ruefully as he whispered, "I don't know what to think of you."

An abrupt thump sounded nearby, and even as Billy pressed him hard against the tree to hide them, the black and white collie they'd seen earlier flew through the brush nearby. It picked up its errant tennis ball, tail wagging, and tilted its head inquisitively at the pair of them before shooting off at the sound of a whistle.

Dom gave a rather wheezing laugh as Billy pulled fully away with some effort. "Not the worst way to be caught."

.

"No," Billy smiled, flushed and breathless as he pulled away and trained his eyes on the scampering dog in the distance to calm himself. He licked the taste of Dom from his lips, amazed at how impulsive he made him, how utterly unable to help himself.

He tried to envision a regular night out, the two of them, Lij, Orli, Astin, maybe Viggo, too, but with this added element. All the drinking, raucous laughter, and ribbing, but with he and Dom's eyes catching each other across the pub. Not being able—or allowed—to show his jealousy when someone else had their hands all over Dom, man, woman, mate, whoever, because Dom was just that captivating all the time. Billy didn't know if he'd be equipped to handle that.

"Why d'you keep saying that?" he asked softly, still working toward composure. "I don't know what to think of you."

.

"'Cause it's true," Dom answered, stumbling a couple steps from the tree and lifting his foot to poke at a lightly bleeding scrape from the bark on the end of his heel. It stung a little, but he hardly minded, picking his way through the brush back to the footpath and pushed his feet into his sandals.

"I don't know what to think of you. I've never known," he said, carefully keeping a couple of feet between them and training his eyes down the path. "You're like the biggest... contradiction of a person I've ever met and I've been looking at you, trying to figure you out for months and I can't do it."

He still tried to figure it out even now, seeing all the lines blur between them even more now that this had come to head; how Billy was usually the reasonable one, yet he'd thrown Dom against the tree with complete abandon, the dubious strength that could explode from his compact little frame, the way he kissed, fierce and yet gentling. Now Dom was trying to figure out if Billy was a mate or something much more. Every new contrast he discovered was more fascinating than the last, and he wanted to explore every single one. He looked back at Billy's face, smiling softly at the bemusement there. "It isn't a bad thing, Bills. Gives me a reason to look."

.

"Well," Billy started, noticing Dom's forced composure and doing his best to keep his distance as well. It was easier once they reached a more populated area. "That's alright, then." He shot him a playful smile. 

Billy could certainly say the same of Dom, which was probably why they got on so well; they surprised each other at every turn, and there was no pressure to be consistent.

"So," he looked him over, his sweet mouth, the marked-up skin of his neck, the way he put his shoulders into his walk, and took a deep breath. "Shall we set up some rules, then?" He began marching with a mock-serious air; if they couldn't be silly about this, there was no way it would work. "Some guidelines for the journey on which we are about to embark."

.

Dom laughed at Billy's strut, the pair of them arriving back out from the seclusion of the trees to the wide lawn. He located a spot he liked and flopped down on it, throwing his arms above his head.

Billy arrived shortly after, silhouetted by the bright blue sky as he looked down on him and then away, parking himself on the grass closer to Dom's feet. It gave Dom a little thrill, knowing that Billy found him inviting even if he wasn't even trying to be.

He propped himself up on his elbows and scrunched his nose. "Rules are for breaking," he grinned, but nodded, lying back down with his hands crossed beneath his head. "Right, rules then. Don't say I can't touch you in public, though, you know I can't do it. I'll just... have to behave."

.

"Behave? You don't know the meaning of the word," Billy teased, pulling at the grass underneath him—it helped prevent him from touching Dom's feet. "Alright." He settled himself, watching Dom's head loll into the crook of his arm. If someone would just turn on a sprinkler, he'd be Billy's own personal Lolita. "I won't say no touching, but it's going to make things hard on me." He raised an eyebrow at Dom's grin. "Difficult."

His eyes raked over Dom's body, still and calm, framed by the grass. "Nothing like before, though," he nodded toward the wooded area from which they'd come. "None of that. Especially if we're with other people. Even if we think we're in private, chances are we're not." Billy shifted, fingering the frayed bottoms of his jeans. Much as he wanted free rein to throw himself into this full-force, it was beginning to thrill him, the idea of secrecy, of no one knowing but them. He watched one of Dom's hands drift down, skirting under the hem of his tee, Billy's tee, revealing a strip of skin. He widened his eyes down at him in accusation. "No teasing, either." Dom grinned cheekily, thumbing at the trail of hair under his navel. "Christ. What have I gotten myself into?"

.

Dom pulled his hand from his belly and rolled over, folding his arms and pillowing his chin on them, taking Billy out of his sights completely. Several yards up the hill, he could see a couple of teens lying in the grass, the girl with her head propped on the boy's thigh, his fingers curling in her soft hair. It gave him considerable pause about what they were facing.

"I never thought about this," he said quietly, still watching the pair. "Not seriously anyway. All I ever did was fool around with other guys a few times, but it never really left their flat, or the dressing room or whatever."

He never realized how lucky he was dating a girl, taking her out, being able to do all the natural things that sent the signal that this one is mine, don't touch to others. Yet he felt the same way toward Billy. 

He thought about his mate Neill from uni, and how he'd never known at all that he was actually with his other mate Jon, until they told him they'd been together for years. They'd never touched when they'd gone out, never looked at each other too long, rarely even sat side by side, even in good company. It was second nature for them to hide it, lest the wrong people see. Glasgow was easily as rough as Manchester in that respect. Billy had said he'd learned to hide it too well.

"This doesn't feel like a... a big gay crisis, like you'd think it would, but now that we're in this, it's totally different, isn't it. It's all going to be different."

.

Billy nodded solemnly, remembering all the shite he took as a kid just for being involved in acting. By the time he'd had his first crush on a guy, he'd been almost conditioned to hate himself for it, and to assume that the rest of the world would, too. That element of self-loathing was something he struggled with throughout his teens and early twenties, through every guy he'd been involved with, even the one-night stands. And once he resolved that, it was the fear of what the world would think that still held him back.

The closest he'd ever come to a real relationship with a guy was Gavin, his mate from drama school. Gavin was one of very few men Billy'd ever met at home who was of the "out and proud" sort. It was one of the things he'd loved most about him, enough to make trips with him to Edinburgh every weekend (and sometimes during the week) so he could let loose in a city "that actually accepts gay people." He'd been political and passionate and an incredibly talented actor—not unlike Dom, actually—and Billy'd quickly fallen for him. But after months of keeping their relationship under the roof of RSA, Gavin finally pulled Billy aside and demanded to know where he stood, and Billy had choked spectacularly. He still remembered with a horrible clarity the look Gavin gave him as he said, "I don't have the option of hiding."

Billy didn't want to think of himself as a coward. He liked to think that since then he'd gotten to a point where he felt free to be himself, wherever that took him. But there was certainly something to his history with men. There was a reason nothing had ever really taken off with any of them, even behind closed doors. Perhaps it was that none of them had ever seemed worth the risk.

"We have to be careful," Billy said firmly. It was so easy to forget all the possible dangers in the company they kept. He thought of that night in the pub a couple of weeks back, in Queenstown. He reached down to tweak Dom's big toe. "I don't want anything happening to you."

.

Dom's mind went to that brawl they'd nearly got into, and that was only because he looked the part with eyeliner on and associating with men who kissed in public. Dom had never not kissed people in public. Women, men, mates, his mum, made no difference. Nor had he ever restrained himself from odd clothes and make-up simply because he enjoyed it. He remembered a day, so many years ago, having painted himself up with his mum's lipstick and rouge, and came crying to her when he poked himself in the eye with her mascara brush. She'd laughed and laughed until she cried, and he cried until he laughed. Even then, Dom loved to make people laugh, and that was why he still did it. 

He rolled back over and sat up, contemplating Billy. "How much have you done this?" he asked curiously. "I mean, I like women, you know that. You like women. I doubt that's going to change. And last night was..." He looked at the grass, tugging up a few blades to tear apart, dropping his voice, "Last night was incredible, but it was a lot more than I'd ever done before. All I've ever done was snogging, you know, touching. Mutual wanking. Not a lot else. I liked it, but I always cut it off before it went much further."

.

Billy took a deep breath, the situation with Gavin still very much hovering in his mind. "I've been with a few men... like that. Usually only once or a few times, but one very regularly, in drama school. We were quite serious, but I wasn't ready to be open about it," he admitted with some shame. "And when I was younger, I fooled around with a few, like you said, nothing serious. When I was sixteen, I had a good mate that I fooled around with all the time, for close to a year, but we dated girls at the same time," he laughed a little. "We weren't mature enough to deal with what it all meant."

He wasn't sure he wanted to get into this, not just yet, anyway. It mattered, sure, and obviously it mattered a great deal to Dom, but in this respect, Billy considered himself a clean slate. None of what he'd done before applied to Dom; their dynamic was too special and strange. He wanted to do his best to create something new and incredible for the both of them. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "We did take it a bit far a bit fast last night. And I'm pretty sure neither of us regrets it, but. Maybe we should take it slower for the sake of enjoying the progression." His mind reeled with images less frantic than the night before, of them really taking the time to enjoy each other. "There's so much that I want to do with you."

.

Dom's eyes latched onto Billy's mouth as he leaned in, his whispered words all it took to get Dom breathing hard again, his mind awash with snapshots of skin, cocks, Billy's face both ferocious and open in need. He closed his eyes to it, shaking his head with a laughed murmur, "Slow down." Billy checked where Dom jumped, and that was something he was probably going to have to depend on. 

He surreptitiously reached down to adjust himself in his pants, knowing full well Billy would certainly notice (never missed a thing), and stared off at the playground to try and settle himself. Tomorrow, they'd be back at work, and in a few days they'd be away from each other entirely for the holidays. Maybe that was ultimately a good thing, it would give Dom some time to settle and think. "I guess that puts going back home and getting started right out, eh?" He joked, shaking his head again, "What about work? Should we just... try to be mates like usual? I'm going to be catching hell for this already, it's guaranteed," he pointed to his neck.

On a whim, he leaned forward himself, his hand stroking the inseam of his jeans right where he now had an interesting bruise, "I don't mind the biting, Bills, but you'll need to keep it under wraps, if you get my drift."

.

Billy's eyes darted from Dom's hand, pressing gently against the inside of his thigh, back to his eyes. "You make me really impulsive," he murmured. "It scares me." I'd touch you all the time if I could.

His gaze dropped again to Dom's fingers, pressing harder now, making his breath come almost imperceptibly faster. He could see that skin now, hidden under Dom's denims, that he'd looked at from that special limited access vantage point and claimed as his own. He shoved a knuckle into his mouth and bit down hard, growling dramatically as he threw himself onto his back.

He could hear Dom's wicked laugh above him as he stared up at the sky, the birds in the trees that had no idea just what was going on below. "Maybe this break'll be good. Maybe we both need to clear our heads." Maybe, he thought, it'd be good for making sure they were both willing to take this risk, even in private.

.

Dom giggled at Billy's reaction, biting his own lip at the dull reminder as he pressed the bruise. Even in the turn of a wrist, he could feel it, the throbbing residual ache of his muscles. A little pain was worth the pleasure.

And still, Billy said he wanted to take it slower, to enjoy it. Dom crawled over to stretch out beside him, to see the intricacies of his profile as he watched the sky. He tried to imagine slower with Billy, the slow evolution of wooing someone, which they'd skipped entirely. Or maybe they hadn't, maybe they'd been doing it all along. He laughed at himself. "Are we going to start at the beginning when we get back? Should I take you to a film one night, and then watch one in on another, work up to making out on the sofa?"

He stopped, flushing. That didn't actually sound so bad. Dom liked kissing rather a lot, and the idea of kissing Billy for hours, just kissing, the pair of them worked up like teenagers was enticing as hell. He sniffed, looking back at the poofy clouds floating above. "That one looks like a beetle."

He watched as it changed shape, thinking about going away and then coming back. He remembered that conversation with his ex and how he said he'd look her up when he was back in town. He thought of his old friends, who were nothing like his new ones. It was like his life had turned him upside down by the ankles and shaken out the contents, and now he was rebuilding himself completely.

.

"Paul or Ringo?" Billy turned to Dom and his breath caught; his eyes were impossibly large and intense at this proximity, even though they were no longer trained on him. He took in his fascinatingly skewed profile, pinched with thought.

He turned back to the sky but tilted his head closer to Dom's. "We'll start wherever you want when we get back. Unless you've come to your senses by then." Billy's words were only in jest, but there was an honest fear underneath them; what if going home made Dom realize this was all a huge mistake? It was a possibility, one he couldn't be so careless as to forget. He couldn't help envisioning the opposite, them returning and taking it slow, like Dom said, going out for meals and touching surreptitiously under the table, making out slow and hot under Dom's porch light, groping and panting on Billy's sofa half-dressed. He wanted all that, all too much. He wasn't sure how he'd recover if this ended before it began. 

"Making out sounds good," he murmured, twitching his fingers enough so they could just barely touch Dom's side. "Maybe I'll buy you flowers and give you my jacket on a cold night. ...Or bite you some more."

.

Dom gave the slightest startle at Billy's fingers brushing down cotton and then to the barely exposed bit of skin just above his jeans. It was the first time Billy'd touched him today on his own, without Dom being the first to initiate contact. He took a deep breath. It took considerable effort to just leave it at that, and not urge it further in any way. 

He rolled his head back to look at Billy, finding his eyes tilted to watch his own fingers, a light smile showing his fiendish bitey little teeth.

He sniffled again. "Where do you want to start, Bills? You're in this too, you get a say. What do you want?"

.

"I'd like to start at the beginning," Billy said quietly, feeling more optimistic at the look in Dom's eyes. He let two fingertips run slowly across his skin. "We'll go on our break, think things over... and when we come back, I'll give you a second first kiss." He brought his eyes back up to Dom's and gave him a soft smile. "Wish I could give it to you now," he said with more than a little regret.

He thought of them laying there in the grass, like a couple that's been together for years, and him whispering such ridiculously romantic things into the summery air. Billy knew he was already in way too deep, but he couldn't stop. Dom looked so sweet and perfect under the sun. "We can call each other while we're at home, if you want." He could already tell that Dom was quickly tiring of that caveat—if you want—but that was also something he couldn't help.

.

Dom's eyes twinged, not from Billy saying such silly things that made his heart squeeze hard like a big girl's, but from the sudden onset he was fighting a losing battle against. "You're not going to want to in a minute. Kiss me, I mean," he said, sniveling hard, "Fuck."

He sat up, one hand dropping to Billy's wrist to keep his fingers there on his hip where he wanted them, the other wiping his nose with his wrist. His eyes itched and watered, and his soft palate tingled with impending sneezes. "Bloody fucking summer in December."

He'd learned early on in filming that if they were going to be working outside, he should take an antihistamine to forestall a reaction, but he hadn't been home, and frankly didn't care in the least this morning. At least not until it hit him like this. "Fucking grass."

.

Billy quickly sat up, ignoring Dom's stubbornness. "D'you need to get home? Get medicine?"

Dom couldn't get a moment's breath for an answer, with all the sneezing.

"Come on." Billy guided him to his feet, his head whipping around to get his bearings. "Come on," he laughed, gently pulling him in the direction of Dom's flat. 

This fierce need he had to protect and take care of Dom was something that'd been there since day one—and something that surely peeved Dom on occasion. It peeved him right now, actually. He draped an arm lightly over his shoulder, bearing the brunt of his convulsions as he continued to sneeze. "Poor thing. It'll get better when we get a bit further away from the trees, yeah?"

.

"I'm not going to die, I'm just g- g-" he sneezed, "-going to be m-" and again, "-miserable."

The sneezing fit seemed to have exhausted itself, but there was nothing else for it, whatever pollen he'd managed to inhale was now making his head feel stuffed with wool. He gave a pissed off moan as they walked, completely annoyed with himself and the world. Even when they got to his place, it would take awhile for those prescribed pills to take effect. He wanted to spend the day with Billy, and he didn't want to spend it feeling all drippy and muddled.

With nothing else on hand, he plucked up the front of his tee and used it to wipe his nose, then belatedly realized what he'd done with a laugh. "Sorry. I'll wash it."

.

"Aww," Billy laughed, touching the side of his face with affection. "It's fine. We'll get you some tea, eh?" 

They walked double-time to make it to Dom's place, aided by the fact that it was a more direct route from the park to there than Fidel's was. By the time they came through the front door, Dom's sneezing had completely subsided, but he still looked stuffy and red and, as he'd predicted, generally miserable. He tossed his keys onto a side table in the foyer like a zombie, eyes teary and barely open.

"Where's your medicine?" Billy asked quietly. Dom pointed vaguely down the hall in the direction of the loo. Billy trotted there quickly, ransacking the cabinet for anything remotely medicinal-looking, including an array of ointments that were probably totally unnecessary. He returned to the kitchen where Dom was seated with an armful of stuff, which he deposited onto the counter before it could spill onto the floor.

.

Dom blinked at him and laughed, getting up to sort through it. "It's the little prescription bottle, where– you brought the whole cabinet out here and didn't manage to find it?" He sniffled but smiled, gathering up all the stuff to take back, cradling it against his belly.

"How 'bout you make some tea, and I'll go look?" He said, nodding to the kettle, before he left the kitchen to take the mess back the the bathroom. Billy was always like this any time Dom was out of sorts, or got injured even a minor one. Now it sort of made sense that he paid such attention. Though having suffered hay fever forever, he could manage on his own, even if it made him mopey and generally unpleasant.

Shoving the paracetamol bottles, and tubes of ointment and toothpaste back in the cabinet, he slowly figured out that Billy hadn't found the allergy pills because they apparently weren't in the loo at all. He sniffed, tugged some toilet paper out and blew his nose properly, which hardly helped now his sinuses were swollen. With a grumble, he pulled Billy's shirt off over his head, and bent at the sink to wash his face, the water cool and wonderful on his eyes and nose. He pressed the damp facecloth against his face and gave a wretched sound.

With the facecloth in one hand and Billy's shirt in the other, he went into his bedroom and tossed both in the hamper. At the nightstand, he searched its drawer, and then the dresser, finally finding the little bottle of allergy medication hidden behind several books and a clean pile of shirts he'd never managed to actually put in the drawer. He popped the cap and shook a tablet out, reaching for the half empty bottle of water on the nightstand when Billy appeared in the doorway.

.

"Tea's on." Billy's eyes made a quick journey over Dom's torso before respectfully averting to the floor. He rubbed at his arms for something to do, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. "I didn't help at all, did I? If I'd only known you keep them with your porn," he joked, lifting his eyes to watch Dom playfully growl through a mouthful of water. 

Billy flushed, leaning against the door frame. He wasn't ready to see all that skin again so soon—and not be allowed to touch it. "D'you need anything else?" He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

.

"You tried. I hid it from myself, too," Dom answered. The corners of his mouth curled as he finished off the bottle, watching Billy's little struggle. He hadn't meant to tease, only to rid himself of a snotty shirt, but now it came to it, he couldn't help but let Billy's eyes crawl over him a little longer. It did wonders for his ego. But as he tapped the empty bottle against his thigh, biting his lip, his eyes and nose felt swollen and his mouth sticky, and he struggled to breathe without sounding cruddy. He couldn't possibly be very enticing right now. "Just have to wait for the thing to kick in."

He stepped forward to grab one of the shirts from the dresser, watching the way Billy trapped his hands, alone with no one around for the first time since this morning. He took a deep breath through his mouth and tugged the shirt on over his head. I could use a cuddle, he thought. He didn't want Billy to leave, and he wasn't particularly keen on leaving the house himself, at least until he could breathe properly again. Any other time, Billy'd have them snuggled on the sofa with tea and a film, or playing a round of video games, anything to take Dom's mind off feeling bad.

He leaned back against the dresser, looking out the window at the lovely sunny day he wished he could still be out enjoying. "Does slowing down mean we can't touch at all today?" he looked back to ask, hoping he didn't come off grumpy about it with his gruff voice, and tried a wry smile. "I'll be good if you will."

.

Billy watched with more than a little regret as all that lovely skin disappeared under a fresh shirt. "No, it doesn't mean we can't touch at all." He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hold him. There was so much he wanted to do, so much he didn't yet feel he had the right to do, if that made any sense. He wanted to take the time to earn it.

Even with all they'd done last night, this was all so brand new, so exploratory. Billy didn't yet feel at ease enough to touch Dom whenever and however he wanted to. It would take a while to bridge the gap between how well they already knew each other and how well they could know each other, in this way too.

"Come on." He held his hand out to Dom. "There's something I didn't get the chance to do last night." After a mischievous moment of hesitation, Dom put his hand in his, and he led them out to the living room, where he heard the kettle whistling. "Fuck. Tea." His head whipped in the direction of the kitchen, then back at Dom. "Sit," he insisted. "Be right back."

.

Dom sat on the sofa, bouncing a bit in anticipation as Billy disappeared back into the kitchen. They were alone together, and Billy had something he wanted to do, something involving Dom. Something they hadn't done last night, which only wound him further. He knew not to expect much, but whatever it was had to be something special. Even little things were special now.

He sat rubbing his hands up and down the legs of his jeans, twitchy and excited, while Billy came back with a mug in each hand.

.

"Alright." Billy set the tea down on the coffee table. "Lay down. On your stomach." Before Dom could protest, he gave him a light shove on the shoulder. "It's too hot, anyway. You can have it when I'm done. This'll only take a few minutes." At that, Dom gave him a boyish smile and laid himself out, pliant but still buzzing with energy.

"Thank you," Billy said grandly, waiting a long moment before finally putting his hands on Dom's back, kneading into his shoulders with firm but gentle strokes. Dom groaned when his thumbs found their first knots. Billy broke into a proud smile. "Still want that tea?" Dom simply let out another groan in response.

His fingers started out methodical, but as Dom's noises grew more breathy, they were infused with something else. They ran down the span of his back and up again, feeling it rise up to meet them. Instinct told him that Dom wouldn't mind a bit if he sat astride his back for extra leverage, but his first priority was care, not foreplay. "You didn't get the full treatment in the shower. I felt bad about that. Not that I can reach all the muscles that are probably hurting right now."

.

"Bugger that," Dom said, pushing up to stand abruptly, throwing a grin behind him, "If you're gonna do a thing, do it right."

As tempting as it was the throw the new shirt off and let Billy loose, that would probably put a damper on this whole thing. Billy wanted to slow down, and Dom knew with the tiny voice of logic in the back of his mind that things would be better for it if he did as well. He lay down on the rug on his stomach, between the telly and the coffee table, folding his arms for a head rest. "You can at least get to both sides of me this way."

As Billy knelt down beside him to start working over his shoulders again this time from the other side, Dom relaxed into it, breathing slowly (through his mouth, since his nose was useless), flinching and groaning a bit when Billy's precise little fingers dug into particularly sore places. He thought about last night, and how this had all gone pear-shaped somehow after that shower ended so sharply.

"Last night, you said you didn't want me to feel like you were holding me back," he murmured, his voice going sleepy. "Why? I mean, why would you think that?"

.

Billy's smile still lingered as he watched Dom go pliant on the rug. It couldn't possibly be comfortable for him, but he seemed perfectly content. Billy suspected all those lean, strong lines aided that. 

Dom's question had him feeling kind of bashful, though, even as he worked his overwrought muscles with confidence and care. Billy sighed, grinding the heels of his hands into the small of his back. "You really don't understand how attractive you are to people, do you?" He spoke with more exasperation than affection. It wasn't a line; he comprehended Dom's (mostly) unspoken insecurities almost as well as he did his charms. 

Under his hands, Dom's back went a bit tense.

"Everyone always talks about how gorgeous Orlando is," he nearly scoffed, despite the fact that it was true, "or how preternatural Elijah's eyes are, whatever the fuck that means, but..." His breathing got heavier as he put more of his upper body into kneading at Dom. "You're the one everyone can't stop looking at, whether they know you or not. You have something, like an electricity, and you take it with you everywhere you go, and everyone's just... entranced by it." Billy's hands slowed, thumbs sliding just under the hem of Dom's shirt on the downstroke. He realized he was verbalizing all this for the first time, not just for Dom but for himself, too. "You can have anyone." He literally held Dom down before he could protest. "I'm not fishing for a compliment—I think you know me better than that. I'm just being honest. This is a really special time for you: you're young and you have the world at your feet. You have every right to want to have no obligations, you know? Besides work. I don't want to take that away from you. I want you to be sure you're not missing out on anything."

.

Dom braced against Billy's ministrations; the small of his back was apparently more overused than he'd thought.

Still, listening to Billy compare him to and then imply he was more attractive than Elijah and even Orlando was something else again. Maybe he had something, or he wouldn't have been encouraged to put his boundless energy into acting through school, but he didn't think it made him any less funny-looking than he was.

He rolled over and hitched up on an elbow, causing Billy to stop, knelt as he was beside him. "Why would being with you stop me from doing anything? We're in this together for a couple years anyway. Where this thing goes, we go. It's in the contract I signed." He cocked an eyebrow, "Why on earth do you think you don't have the same opportunities as me? Because you're a few years older? Give me a break, Bill."

.

Billy fought back a pleased smile; just because he wasn't fishing for a compliment didn't mean he wouldn't be flattered by one. "I know I do," he urged Dom back to a proper laying position. "But, ehm... I'm not sure I want them anymore." He waited for a reaction from Dom, which didn't come. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I don't know if it's age or just being here, but I think I may have put that part of my life to bed." Dom started to smile. "So to speak."

"But," Billy took a deep breath, "I imagine you still have many, many things to cross off your list." His fingers crept back up to the juncture of Dom's shoulders and neck, digging in there, and he felt Dom breathe deeply in response. He thought of some of the benders they'd already been on thus far, some of the girls Dom had pulled, some of the things he'd seen him do on dance floors and in the back seats of cabs, and he suddenly felt tired. "You know what I mean."

.

Dom breathed through Billy's confident fingers working over one shoulder and then the other, pondering that phrase carrying over from last night. So that's what he meant. 

And he couldn't deny it either. Things with Meg had ended for the exact same reason, because she knew he wouldn't spend a year being all noble and true to her. Meg was actually great that way, that even though they'd been exclusive, it all felt very casual. And he'd come here with no obligations, intent on taking every opportunity to get a leg over like any red-blooded young man would. 

To be fair, he'd seen Billy do the same. Maybe not as often, but he'd taken women home with him a few times. He'd spent time with that hostess on the South Island; doing what, Dom didn't really know but he could guess. He'd been less than candid about having his way with his twin, actually, which was part of what had Dom so excited about the situation in the first place, he'd get to see, get to watch. 

But Billy'd mentioned the word 'exclusive' last night too, which was telling at how serious this already was. 

"If you were a girl, it would be the same, you know," he murmured softly, "if you don't want me to sleep around, I won't." He paused to smile, "Besides, if you're always that sexy in the bedroom, why the hell would I want to?"

.

Billy grimaced at Dom's wording: If you don't want me to sleep around, I won't. The compliment that followed wasn't enough to distract from it. They'd only slept with each other last night, and already they were having this conversation. But knowing each other as deeply as they did, already being such partners, in every sense of the word now, made it impossible to write it off as even remotely casual. Billy knew he couldn't fake it if he tried.

He drew his hands from Dom's body and reached behind him for his tea, an exasperated noise pushing its way past his soft palate. "I want you to do what you want to do." The hot liquid was soothing as it trickled down his throat and into his stomach. 

Billy thought of the few people he'd felt serious about in his past, the ugly phrases he'd thrown at them and on behalf of them, for minor offenses and non-offenses. He loved so intensely; it was often his own jealousy that eroded the edges of his relationships. "I think it's only fair that I warn you: I'm a right pain in the arse when it comes to this," he gestured vaguely between them.

.

Dom rolled back over and sat up again, bending his knees and propping his arms on them. He studied Billy silently, his words at odds with each other. Already he was annoyed with being told everything was his choice. Clearly, it wasn't. Even now, if they called this a lark and left it here, Dom knew that Billy would spend the next year seething anytime he took a girl home. He gave a not especially amused chuckle, "I'd guess that's a no, then."

He crawled over to reach his tea, the proximity of leaning in to grab it bringing his face and Billy's quite close, and neither of them could keep from the inhale and flicker of eyes toward each other's mouths for it. Dom sat back in his place, occupying his hands and his eyes with his tea instead, sighing heavily. "You can't tell me I can do whatever and then say you're going to get upset if I do happen to look at a girl. I can't not–" Dom stopped, shutting himself up before that went badly. "I don't want to make you any promises I won't end up keeping. Which sounds bloody awful, but... Fuck, I've never been with a bloke, Billy, I don't know how it works. You're my best mate. Better than most of the ones I've got at home. I don't want to be the one who blows that because I saw a pair of tits I liked."

He sighed, feeling wretched and looking at his toes. "Maybe we shouldn't do this. But I want to. I've wanted you for ages, I was just denying it the whole time. And not even succeeding at denying it, really. Tell me to shut it anytime, you know, before I put my foot in it."

.

"You're not saying anything wrong. It's not your fault I'm a prick," Billy laughed, trying to get that helpless look off Dom's face. It didn't work. His own heart had fallen a bit at Dom's suggestion that they call it off ahead of time, even if that option was attractive for its cowardice. It'd be sure to cause both of them far less heartache and confusion in the end. 

He sighed and replaced his tea on the coffee table, gathering his thoughts. "Alright. We fancy each other. We have fun with each other. Which is probably one of the biggest reasons I fancy you." That, thankfully, finally pulled a smile out of Dom. "So let's have fun," Billy urged softly. "Let's just enjoy each other as much as we can. How can we be arsed to make rules for it when we don't even know what it is yet?" Dom looked suspicious. "I'll do my best. That's all I can offer you, I'm afraid," Billy shrugged. 

Suddenly inspired, he crawled forward, erasing that little stretch of carpet between them, and cradled Dom's face before claiming his mouth in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, he kept their foreheads together and his weight on his other arm. "Okay?" Dom didn't respond right away, so he pulled him in for another, this one slower and, he hoped, more convincing, working his mouth open with a gentle, curling tongue. "I really want to try this," he whispered into his mouth. "I want to make it good for you. Let me."

.

Dom's eyelids fell to half mast of their own accord, his thoughts and worries scattering like so many little fish at the ripple that was Billy's mouth, Billy's unbelievable mouth on his, extra warm and spicy from the tea. And the words he spoke in that lilting undertone, it tasted of so much promise. He couldn't help himself.

His hand blindingly set his mug aside on the shelf, and then rose to touch, to caress Billy's face, stubbly and careworn, the fine lines by his eyes completely at odds with his boyish nature. His hand shook (Christ, why was he always trembling like a girl around him?) as he cradled his neck to bring him closer, invite him further. He breathed a laugh at the ridiculous thoughts in his head, that no one ever kissed him like this. But the feel of it made him shiver with excitement in a way he hadn't felt with anyone in years, guy or girl. Billy's little teeth nibbling oh so gently on his bottom lip pulled a girly whimper right from his gut.

.

Billy's hand drifted to Dom's jaw, holding it there in a way that was more demanding as he plunged his tongue inside to taste deeper. Feeling the strange, special curve of it under his fingers made him have to pull away and breathe, smiling. "Still can't believe it's us doing this," he urged Dom's eyes open with his fingertips, "you and me." 

He shifted to a more comfortable kneel, the two of them facing each other on the floor, a bit like children. One hand drifted to the soft ends of Dom's hair, which he'd been eyeing since this morning in his own kitchen, the other down his neck, just under the collar of his shirt, feeling a slight tremble there. He smiled, saying nothing; Dom knew that he noticed. "Bit mad, aren't we?"

.

"Completely," Dom breathed. It had to be madness that some barrier had broken yesterday, popped like a soap bubble, and he could barely contain himself with Billy so close, his hands touching places that seemed so intimate even though they weren't, and Billy had had his hands there countless times, in front of friends and colleagues.

He darted forward, kissing Billy hard, because he couldn't help it, and then forced himself away, up and away, putting a hand out to stop Billy following. "Stay there... don't follow me, just... stay here for a minute."

He backed up to the hall, watching all the while to be sure Billy didn't look like he'd bolt, gave a wild grin and then sprinted to his room. He took a moment to have a silent little spazz, because he needed to let loose some needy energy before he all but attacked Billy again. He tried to think of ways to slow it down, to keep himself occupied with Billy without actually pushing him down to lick every inch of him. Fun, he thought, Need something fun. He jerked open the nightstand drawer, an array condoms there not helping at all. He crossed to the dresser and pulled open another, smiling at what he found there.

.

Billy leaned back on his hands with an elaborate sigh, flushed and thrumming with Dom's energy. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for his tea. "Christ." How were they ever going to concentrate on set, wanting to maul each other like this constantly? They were both incredibly focused, hard-working people, and terribly grateful for this project, but this added distraction was already proving quite... distracting.

He laughed, envisioning them attacking each other right in the middle of a shot, in full Merry and Pippin garb. Pete would be beside himself—but Billy wasn't exactly sure he'd be surprised. 

He wondered what Dom could possibly be doing, or retrieving, in the other room. Massage oil? Given some of Dom's new age proclivities, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Maybe he'd reemerge in a kimono. Billy giggled, tempted to spy. "Come on!" he shouted, falling onto his back. "I'm falling asleep in here!"

.

Dom kicked off his sandals and snuck back out to the living room on tiptoe, seeing Billy lying on his back on the rug, the total reverse of himself in the same spot, which was perfect. That was it, too, Billy was perfectly imperfect. He'd probably remember that thought forever.

He strode back out, standing above Billy's bent knees to look down on him, bringing his prize from behind his back. "Orange," he said, holding the little bottle of nail varnish between his thumb and middle finger. "I said I'd do this one day, didn't I? I was totally soused at the time though, so I might have imagined it."

He sat back down at Billy's feet, setting the bottle aside and pulled his trainers off, tossing them out of the way, Billy hitching up on his elbows to smirk at him. Dom smirked back, cradling BIlly's left foot by the ankle to pull off his socks. "What? The Foot people can think whatever they like."

Before he started painting, he took Billy's foot in both hands and worked both thumbs in little circles up and down the length of it, earning a groan from Billy and grinning triumphantly. "Payback."

.

If it were possible, Billy flushed even further. He wasn't used to being laid out like this, or tended to in this way. He was usually much more comfortable doing the tending. "You crazy bastard," he shook his head. When Dom's glorious fingers pressed hard at the center of his arch, he nearly lost his balance. "Mm," he licked his lips, squirming. "Never realize how much you use 'em, you know?"

He watched Dom's forearms flex and work, and thought of his toes, peeking up at him from underneath the table at Fidel's earlier. "So how long does it take to chip off?"

.

"It doesn't really get a chance. That shit they use to remove the glue takes most of it off," he murmured, giving each of Billy's toes a little rotating tug to work the kinks out. He pushed one hand up the leg of his jeans a little bit, to cradle his leg and rotate his ankle as well, remembering that Billy had somehow fixed his that same night.

He switched, pulling off Billy's other sock and give his right foot the same treatment, grinning, "You have nice feet. Won't catch me doing this for Elwood, not the way his stink."

He rubbed, watching Billy brace his head up on crossed arms to watch, his brows pinching and jaw tightening with each sinewy muscle loosening up. It was so reminiscent of other activities, those expressions, and Dom had a random memory of some class years ago with the teacher saying how the facial expressions for pain and ecstasy were basically interchangeable. And it would be so easy, so simple to set Billy's foot down and prowl right up between his spread knees, crawl up over him and tug open the buttons of his shirt from the bottom up, with his teeth...

He squeezed his eyes shut and shifted his seat, giving his head a little shake to clear it. Grabbing for the bottle, he twisted off the cap and drew out the brush, scraping off the excess on the rim before drawing in a slow breath to steady his hand, realizing he could finally breathe through his nose again and smell the varnish. "No wriggling now, or you'll have orange on more than just your toes."

.

Ordinarily, Billy would have had some smart retort for that, but watching the care with which Dom handled the brush against his nail, all he could do was smile and agree with a soft "Alright." 

He'd never known anyone like Dom. He'd known plenty of quirky guys—and girls, come to think of it—especially in drama school. But there was usually something put-on about it, kids pretending to be "artists," or what they thought artists looked and acted like. There was nothing forced about Dom's quirkiness. There was an innocence to each surprise he had for Billy, like he had no idea it was out of the ordinary in the first place. 

Billy sniffed the air, the scent of varnish reminding him suddenly of Maggie. He leveled a coy look at Dom. "Am I the first guy you've ever done this for?"

.

"Ehm," Dom pursed his lips to blow softly on the first nail before moving on, dipping the brush again. "No. There was a guy at Aquinas, we were in a couple of classes together."

He kept painting, moving to the next before glancing up, Billy cocking a brow for him to elaborate. He chuckled, "Younger guy named Reagan. He was this little femme boy, you know, really pretty, like Elijah. If Lij was really gay, and a goth," he smirked, remembering, "He... ah, he seemed a bit fascinated with me for a while. Liked it when I spoke German, liked the nail varnish thing. Shit taste in music, though. We fooled around once or twice, but... he sort of got weird about it, and we didn't really talk much after that."

He finished off the smallest of Billy's nails, blowing on them lightly. Billy would ask, he knew he would, and he switched Billy's feet to brace the left one, drawing a careful breath. "He wanted me to fuck him, and I really wasn't that interested. Back then."

.

"Hm." Billy smiled, pleased at Dom's little addendum, and even more pleased that they were finally talking about this—and that he found himself much more curious than envious. He wondered if Reagan was to blame for Dom's love of eyeliner, if they had rubbed off on each other in that way.

He knew how long it took for him to find a guy he was willing to fuck; so many doubts and fears to work through and cast aside. That Dom decided to with him last night, and seemed to be having no regrets, was no small thing. Billy wished it hadn't been so frantic, though considering how long they'd both apparently been wanting it, they could hardly be blamed for that. He also wished they hadn't been so pissed, but then he wasn't sure it would've happened otherwise. He wondered if that same reckless abandon would be there sober.

It had never been like that with him and Gavin. It had never been like that with him and anyone, really. He'd never felt such a need to touch someone, to be touched by someone. He and Dom had always been affectionate, but after last night, Billy was almost convinced that their bodies were meant for each other. It was almost frightening. He couldn't wait to feel that way again. 

He shifted on the carpet, trying his best to at least keep his feet still. He peered down at his toes, cradled by Dom's lovely fingers. "'S better than the purple, I think."

.

"We do what we can," Dom smiled, glad Billy didn't seem perturbed by his previous misgivings. Reagan had simply moved too quickly for him, that and he'd been rather more interested in Dom than Dom was in him. Billy had been intriguing from the very beginning. 

And that was the thing, Billy was not outwardly so captivating. He was the sort of forgettable bloke Dom might pass on the street without any backward look, no desire to find out more. But he'd been placed in a situation with him that required it, and in learning about him discovered a person who was more honest and talented than anyone he'd ever met thus far. The physical attraction was almost a by-product of that, and things Billy thought made him so common were what made him so perfect. 

He finished Billy's second foot in silence, pausing to clean up an edge with his thumb, blowing softly to dry the varnish. That finished, he had no reason to keeping touching his feet anymore, and capped the bottle, fidgeting a bit before crawling over to stretch out beside him on the floor. He lay on his side, propping his head on his arm with a sigh, reaching over to just put his hand on Billy's chest, feel him breathe. 

"I woke up in the middle of the night," he whispered his secret, "and I was wrapped around you. I couldn't let go."

.

Billy blinked slowly, overwhelmed. Saying things like this so soon was liable to get them both into trouble. He should've been more afraid—Dom, too. He laid a hand over his, twining their fingers a bit. "I thought I had a dream about an octopus. With grey eyes." He shifted closer, getting quite lost in said eyes. "Well, more blue right now, actually." Their chameleon nature had been a running joke between them; after Billy'd made the observation their second week of rehearsals, Dom would periodically turn to him during a lull in filming and bat his eyelashes (What are they now?), pissed in a pub (Color check!), or during Feet, with a sleep-rumbly voice (How about this morning?).

Surprisingly, Billy hadn't woken all that much the night before. He did remember Dom wrapped around him at one point. He'd woken halfway when daylight was starting to break and barely registered a leg thrust between his, an arm around his abdomen, and a funny little nose exhaling into the crook of his neck. It'd been too warm to wake up completely; Dom was like a furnace. 

He thought vaguely of all the terrible ways last night could have ended. "I'm glad you didn't leave." He glanced down at his toes, wiggling stupidly in the air to dry. "And I'm glad you asked me to stay with you."

.

Dom smiled, "I'm glad you didn't kick me out."

He worked one finger between the buttons on Billy's shirt, earning a sidelong eyebrow raise from him, and bit his lip cheekily as he petted the little bit of skin and hair there. He lifted up on an elbow and leaned in to softly kiss BIlly's mouth, forcing himself to hold back even when Billy's hand rose to his head and raked through his hair. He held back even when Billy tried to deepen it, opened and invited him in. It was insanely difficult, and he trailed soft kisses to his chin and jaw instead. There was going to be a time when Dom would want to drive, so to speak, and he wondered how Billy would take that. But now wasn't the time, and he forced himself to sit up and look at Billy's watch. It wasn't even noon yet.

"We need to find something to do," he said, meeting Billy's eyes with grin. "Something else to do, or we're never going to manage this slowing down thing." He inhaled through his nose, not quite up to frolicking through any fields, but if they stayed away from the park he might be okay. "I could beat your arse at Grand Turismo again. Or we could go play some pool or... I don't know, see if Orli and Lij are still at the beach."

.

Billy considered through a fog of lust, now fully on his side, one hand still clinging to the hem of Dom's shirt. Bugger slow; right now, all he wanted to do was lay Dom out on this rug and have his way with him, or vice versa—he wasn't picky. He groaned, both proud and frustrated at Dom's determination. 

"Ehm." He tugged at the soft cotton of his shirt, watching the way it pulled over Dom's chest. "Beach is a good idea, I think." Dom in a wetsuit was probably the second best option. "I need to go back to my place for some stuff, though." He pushed Dom's shirt into his navel, watching the material stick there.

.

Dom grinned, grabbing Billy's hand where it poked him, and leaned down to kiss him again. "There will be no recreations of From Here to Eternity." Billy's mouth broke into a rueful grin under his, "And no, I may never let you live that down."

He sprang up to his feet, reaching a hand down to heave Billy upright, and grabbed the bottle of nail varnish and headed down the hall toward his bedroom. "What do you need to get?" he asked, dropping the polish back in his top drawer and stretching his arms over his head, much looser now since Billy's massage, "I feel better, but I don't know that I'm up for surfing still."

.

Truth be told, Billy was going to go back for his own wetsuit, but if Dom wasn't up for it, he didn't want to leave him behind to watch the rest of them. It was a bit like being the only one sober in a room full of happily pissed friends. "Was going to say my board shorts and sunblock, but if it's not going to end in a round of foamy snogging..."

Dom tossed a wry smile over his shoulder on his way to his bedroom. Billy quietly followed close on his heels, surprising him at the dresser with tight arms around his waist. "Wanna come with or split up and meet?" He lifted his eyes to the mirror before them and saw Dom's eyes trained on their reflection there. Billy inhaled sharply. "Either way, I need something first," he murmured before dropping a kiss behind Dom's ear.

.

Dom's breath left him, staring. At the sly tilt of Billy's brow as he dipped in to press a kiss over one of those flagrant red marks, his mind went all sorts of directions as to what could be done with and to each other in front of this mirror. His hands went back, grabbing and catching on Billy's belt loops, tugging his hips tighter against his arse. Billy let out a puff of hot breath and a growl, lips automatically turning up as those teeth latched on to the shell of his ear.

"Fuck," Dom ground out, eyes darting sideways to his bed, unmade from the night before last. He breathed an airy laugh as one of Billy's hands clenched a handful of t-shirt, pulling back a bit to rest his forehead on the back of Dom's neck. He unwound his fingers from Billy's jeans and brought them round to cover Billy's tightly at his waist. Not much safer, but the best he could do. "Should not have followed me in here. 'S very dangerous, Bill."

Billy gave a panting chuckle himself, and Dom squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out how fucking tempting it would be to just throw him down on the mattress. "What was the question?"

.

"Fuck if I remember," Billy laughed, working way too fucking hard against the lust burning through his stomach. The image of them flush against each other, back to front, grinding into each other was too much. "God, you're just..." He wondered if he'd ever be able to finish that sentence.

Billy could literally hear Dom's thoughts, see what he was thinking of doing, and it wasn't much nobler than what was going through his own mind. He brought his mouth up to Dom's nape and spoke into the soft hair there, eyes shut, a smile in his voice. "I think we need to get the fuck out of here. Now."

.

"Right," Dom laughed again, cracking his eyes. "You're going to need to let go. And then go far, far away so I can change into some trunks, and then think about Margaret Thatcher for about ten minutes so I can be seen in public. Assuming getting the fuck out of here still means the beach."

He vaguely wondered if spending time with Elijah and Orli would help. It would be incentive to behave, at least. Then again, he'd have to deal with their endless ribbing. He drew in a deep breath, gently pulled Billy's hands from his shirt, and moved away. "Maybe...erm. Maybe we should meet there," He said, finally remembering, turning to give him a smile. "Give us some time to just... settle."

.

"Alright," Billy smiled, reaching into his pocket to finger his keys. He could certainly use a breather, and maybe he'd take a few minutes to tidy up his bedroom in earnest. He looked Dom over. "But, ehm. Before Margaret Thatcher—" he grabbed the waistband of Dom's jeans one-handed and pulled him in once more, kissing him firmly on the mouth. He pulled away with a proud smirk before uncurling his fingers from the denim. "See you in a bit."

Without a second glance around Dom's room, Billy turned and quickly made his way to the front door, ensuring that they wouldn't get sidetracked again. 

He emerged into the bright sunlight again, alone for the first time today, and breathed the air deeply, thankful that he didn't have the same issues as Dom when it came to that. As he made his way down the street, he found himself grinning like an idiot, a ridiculous spring in his step, like some fifties movie musical star. He'd have to put a bit of a stopper on that if he was going to be convincing to Lij and Orli.

.

The second he heard his front door shut, Dom had his hand down the front of his jeans. He wasn't kidding himself at all; if he was going to survive the rest of this day and deal with his mates, he needed a little release and a lot more patience than he had right now. Plus that last evil little move of Billy's had done him in completely.

He leaned over to peek down the hall, being absolutely sure Billy had left and was not going to jump out on him – which wouldn't be a horrible turn of events, but if that was the case, they ought to have just jumped each other in the trees earlier and called the whole slow thing a complete wash. Seeing the coast was clear, he flopped down on his wrinkled sheets, unbuttoning his fly (remembering Billy ripping it open last night), and groaned as he set to pulling himself off in earnest.

.

Billy's flat was just as dim and stuffy as he'd left it. Throwing the window open before they'd left this morning had provided some ventilation in his bedroom, but obviously not enough. The air was still thick with everything that had happened, his bed sheets still askew, the bottle of lotion still on the nightstand, and that torn condom wrapper still laying amongst the wreckage. 

He moved to pull the sheets off the bed, but feeling that material under his hands made sense memory spark deep in Billy's gut. He could still feel it under his knees, the sweet friction of it as he thrust into Dom, the swish of it between his fingers as Dom rode him from above. "Christ." He dropped the sheet and ran his hands over his face, shuffling into the guest room.

The bed there was still unmade, too, and sunken where they'd both laid during the night. Billy toed off his trainers and dropped onto his back there, quickly giving in, the scent of Dom all over the pillows. He shut his eyes, inhaled deeply, and lowered both hands to work his denims open. 

There was no need to imagine anything; he was still worked up more than enough from right before he left Dom's, hell, from the entire morning with him. He was already halfway there by the time he curled his hand around his cock. He lifted his hips and braced his feet on the mattress, pushing into his fist, instantly reminded of the way he rolled up into Dom from underneath the night before. His jaw dropped on a throaty moan. He wondered if Dom had wanked when he left, if he'd had to the way Billy had to right now. He wondered what he'd thought about if he had, if he had a go-to image from last night, too.

.

Dom's left hand scrambled in the sheets before he slid it beneath his t-shirt, scratching a thumbnail over his nipple, his breath hitching. He kept his grip firm on his prick, pausing to finger the slit and moaning at the reminder of Billy's pointy tongue on it, Billy's beautiful fucking mouth all over him.

This side of Billy he'd discovered was terrifying and gorgeous, this animalistic wildness that had him go from calm and easy to collected, poised on the hunt, and then the fury of his precise hands and those feral teeth making the kill. Dom could still feel the burn of it on the delicate part of his ear from only minutes ago. He whimpered, bracing on foot to better jack himself up into his fist. His left hand trailed down, shoving down his jeans to reach his thighs, and that vicious bruise that twinged so perfectly when he pressed down on it that he twisted his head to the side, imagining those piercing copper hot eyes searing into him from between his legs.

It was gathering together like mercury in his gut now, and he slid his free hand up his leg, pushing his head back hard into the pillow as he shoved his fingers up under his balls and pressed, rubbed hard behind at that sweet magic spot, a surefire way to have him shooting off in a minute, less if he imagined that his fingers were Billy's fucking tongue. He bit his lip, pumping cruelly hard until with a soft sob, he was jerking erratically into the circle of his fingers, come dripping over his knuckles in pulses.

He lay there panting, throwing his clean hand above his head and contemplating the other, before bringing it to his mouth with a sated smirk, wondering if the idea of Dom licking his own come off his fingers would get Billy off. He wondered if Billy had the self-control not to do this as soon as he got home. He wondered so many things, and hoped now he'd be privy to the answers.

.

Billy would've been lying if he said he'd never done this while thinking of Dom. Right the fuck after that camping trip was one particularly torturous time—all that touching and those looks and the way Dom's long, wicked tongue pushed its way into Elijah's mouth—but he'd never have had the balls to admit it to himself. He remembered now, as he tore the first three buttons on his shirt open, petting just inside there as Dom had, how hard he'd worked to keep his mind blank, the burn of Dom's eyes in the firelight pushing its way in through the white fog more and more the closer he got to the end.

Now that he was no longer forbidden, God, it felt so good to just give in to the dirty, ohsoright pull of him. And the fact that no one else knew, that at least for now, this was just theirs, there was something even filthier to that—it made Billy tug on his chest hair and squirm against the sheets.

There was so much to think of, so much they'd already done and so much that Billy still wanted to do. His lust-addled brain couldn't seem to settle on an image as he paused to give his palm a nice long lick. That mirror in Dom's room was a fantastic bit of inspiration. He thought of before, standing chest to back with his mouth all over Dom's neck, only instead of composing himself, he'd work Dom's fly open slowly, button by button, take his long cock out and pull it good and hard, watch Dom on display in the reflection, make Dom watch himself until his face would pinch and he'd come in long spurts all over the mirror. Or he could get him totally naked, bend him over the dresser there, and push into him from behind with quick, hard strokes, watch his breath fog up the mirror as he moaned.

God, how he wanted all that. That he could maybe have it now—knowing Dom, probably—he felt the drizzle of pre-come run just over his closest fingers.

As that thick tell-tale burn began to swirl and unravel low in his stomach, his hand squeezing almost to the point of pain, one final image came and stuck: the two of them in profile, again in front of the mirror, this time Dom on his knees gripping and licking Billy's cock into his sweet little mouth, grabbing Billy's bare arse two-handed and pushing him further beyond his lips, Billy cradling his face with his hand and feeling the stretch of his jaw as he took him, turning and seeing it in the mirror, too.

He came thick and hard, aiming as best he could for the bare skin where his shirt fell open and getting it mostly on his shirt, instead. He went pliant against the mattress, heart thumping, one hand going to tug on his hair as he licked his lips and smiled, totally debauched. How on earth was he ever going to last until after holiday break?

.

Dom's breath finally slowed, leaving him warm and sleepy. A nap sounded like a great plan, actually, but not meeting up with Billy would probably worry him more than strictly necessary today. He looked at the clock; it only took five minutes to get to Billy's from here by foot. He'd have been home by now and it wouldn't take him long to gather whatever he needed.

He kicked off his jeans and plucked at his shirt, laughing at the come stains on the hem. If he changed it Billy would know for sure what he'd done, hell, if he didn't, Billy would still know. Dom found he didn't much care if that image stuck in Billy's head.

But Elijah would care, so he peeled it off and grabbed another, catching sight of himself in the mirror. There were random light bruises everywhere, to go along with the dark ones on his thigh and down his neck, little smatterings of blue around his hips, and on the big muscles on his thighs. He touched these in fascination, casting around in his mind where they'd come from, finally arrived at the moment when he'd been on top of Billy, the moment when he'd started moaning and talking like he could hold it in anymore.

Christ, he'd never known it could be like that. He was certain Billy didn't fuck women like that, so fierce, bruising and biting. He didn't fuck women like that himself, even if they wanted a little rough-and-tumble he was careful. This was something else though, and Dom loved the idea that Billy gave him everything he had because he knew Dom could take it. It brought a smile to his face that there could be many more bruises like these.

He tugged on the shirt and dug in his drawers for bermudas, finding the most lurid pair he had, a pair which Billy had expressed particular distaste at their blinding pattern. In the loo, he rinsed his hands, no soap. He wondered if Billy would smell come on him, even in the salty open air. Jesus, this was insane.

He grabbed a beach towel, just in case he went in the water, pushed his feet into his sandals and grabbed his keys and sunglasses. He wasn't sure if he'd beat Billy to the beach or not as he climbed into his car.

.

Billy took his sweet time coming down, reveling in Dom's scent, the room still full of it, and in the idea of them wrapped up here together last night. His heart swelled with ridiculous affection. It was incredible how fiercely protective he felt of someone he clearly also wanted to ravage constantly.

Feeling sated and almost bloody untouchable, he finally rolled his way off the bed, careful to keep the mess off the sheets. He didn't want to have to wash them, not yet. Maybe he'd sleep in here tonight, too. He reached for a bunch of tissues, cleaned himself up, and tore his shirt off the rest of the way, moving back into his own room. He bunched it up and tossed it in the hamper, the soiled bed sheets finally following.

With a happy sigh, he strode over to the windows and threw the blinds wide open, casting gorgeous streaks of sunlight across the room, now looking considerably more presentable, if empty and sad without the sheets and without Dom in them. Billy didn't have to try hard to picture the ghosts of them from last night, naked, wrapped up, and at it like animals there. "Christ," he shook his head. He still couldn't believe it.

He carelessly tore open one of the drawers and pulled out a fresh shirt, one in bright red with a graphic design, that pulled at his chest and arms in a way that was almost uncomfortable but undeniably attractive. Billy knew his strong points, and he was going to use them to drive Dom up a fucking wall this afternoon. He pulled it on, smoothed it over his torso, and went for navy blue swim trunks—the only pair he had that didn't really need a rinse at the moment. He slid on his sunglasses, grabbed his keys, a beach towel (a bit sandy, but dry at least), and a bottle of sunblock, and was on his way. He somehow managed to hold back the urge to floor the gas pedal.

.

Dom pulled into the carpark a few spaces away from Orlando's Jeep, got out and looked down over the crystal blue waters of Lyall Bay. The sun was high now, glinting over the waves as the breakers splashed against the sand, curling beautifully, and he suddenly regretted not bringing his surfing gear. There were nearly a dozen people out on boards, spaced apart, and a dozen more thrust in the sand by the nose, people waiting to go out or taking a breather. The beach had a good crowd today, families and joggers, the occasional dog and bicycle.

Starting down, he watched as a jet came in for a landing at the airport across the bay. Soon, they'd all be on one, heading back home and away from all this. Not for the first time, he almost wished he could stay, remain here in this brand new life and this eternal summer. Down amongst the surfers he recognized Orlando's whoop from the waves before he spotted his mohawk, cruising over a wave before wiping out spectacularly, and to his right he heard the instantly recognizable laugh of Elijah, sprawled on the sand with his board beside him, still attached by the ankle.

"Uncle Dom!" He turned again at the little voice of Allie behind him, running in her frilly pink swimsuit.

"Hey!" he beamed, scooping her up just as she tripped in the deep sand. Beyond Elijah he saw Chris and Sean with an array of beach toys and towels, Chris sunning herself while Sean diligently applied sunblock to his arms. "Are you having fun? Did you go in the water?" he asked her, scanning around for Billy as he carried her back toward them.

"You showed up after all, eh?" Elijah asked, as Dom sent the three-year-old back to her dad. She set her lip out as Sean set to smearing her with the lotion as well.

"Yeah. Didn't bring my gear though, I'm too wiped," he said, sitting beside him, "Let me guess. That's the third time he's slathered the poor child with SPF 35."

"Fourth," Elijah grinned, "Since we got here. They were here first. Where's Bill?"

"Went home to get his own shit," Dom looked at the sand between his feet, "He said he'd meet us here, but I don't see him yet. I thought he'd beat me."

Elijah propped his shades up on the top of his head, looking him over, "Your nose is like bright red, dude."

.

After pulling in, Billy hung back in the carpark for a bit, taking his time gathering his things and his nerve. From where he'd parked, he could already see Sean and his family, Sean diligently lathering his daughter up while she looked about on the brink of tears. He laughed at that, glad he stopped to pick up some sweets on the way.

Arms nearly full, he strode across the pavement and up the ramp with purpose, excited but also a bit nervous. This little outing would be a good test for how filming would go over the next few days.

His heart gave a stupid little jump when he spotted Dom, down the beach a bit, talking to Elijah, something, he realized, that it had done before, only now he had a name for it.

Allie's pout melted clear away as she slowly recognized him coming toward her. "Shh," he mouthed dramatically, creeping with a finger to his lips. He reached into his bag of goodies and pulled out a gummy worm. Her face lit up, and she pawed her father's hands away, bounding over through the sand. "Hi, Uncle Pippin!"

Billy crouched down to meet her. "Hello, gorgeous! Please call me Billy." He held the candy out of her reach until she did, then handed it to her surreptitiously. "A sweet for my sweet. Don't tell your da," he shot a look at Sean, who was already watching with a playfully miffed expression.

"Say thank you, Al," he intoned from behind her, wiping his hands with his and Chris' ubiquitous antibacterial wipes.

"Thank you," she sing-songed sweetly before running down to show her treat to Dom.

"I hope you brought enough for everybody," Chris smiled, shielding her eyes as she watched him approach.

"'Course I did," he responded automatically, all too aware of Dom's eyes on him now.

.

Dom's eyes found Billy striding toward them in the sun and stuck fast, watching him crouch down to meet Allie. Even with his arms full of packages, he could see the way that red tee clung to him in all the right places, stretching to accommodate his bicep as he gave Allie a gummy candy, his calves bunched to stand back up below the dark shorts. Billy's look was bold, and designed to make people take note, make Dom take note.

"Why do you look like you've been crying?" Elijah asked, "Did you two have a lover's quarrel?"

"Fuck off, man," Dom finally tore his gaze away at that, grabbing a handful of sand and stuffing it down the back of Elijah's wetsuit. He wailed, trying for the same, but Dom was up and off, running calf-deep into the water and laughing when Lij realized he was still attached to his board by the umbilical and nearly fell on his face.

He came back when it was clear Elijah wouldn't retaliate, sulking a bit as he peeled off the top of his suit and tried to scrape out the sand.

"Whoa, mate, cover back up," he said, adjusting his own shades at Elijah's white skin as Billy came up to them. "They don't need a lighthouse on this beach, man, you're blinding."

"I didn't know Rudolph vacationed here," Elijah shot back, "Dommie's been crying, Bill. Look how bawly he looks."

Dom merely met Billy's gaze squarely, flickering down to his packages in anticipation, "What'd you bring me?"

.

The loose set of Dom's body was all the evidence Billy needed to know that he must've given in to the pull of, well, a pull before coming here. And Jesus, that was way more thrilling than it should've been.

He was quick to defend Dom, eyes raking over him—in a fresh shirt, of course—behind his shades. "Eh, leave him be. He had a bit of an attack earlier." He reached into his bag of goodies, brandishing a cherry lollipop. "Here you are. Hope you enjoy it, from here to eternity," he said offhandedly but with a pleased little grin as Dom accepted the treat. He turned to Lij, tittering. "Need a little help there, sweetheart?" 

"Yes. This asshole put sand down the back," he vaguely pointed, still squirming on his feet.

Billy immediately set his stuff down in the sand, trying his best to help Lij without doing anything indecent. "You know," he said, watching Dom over Elijah's shoulder as he carefully scooped wet sand from his lower back, "when someone teases you like this, it can only mean one thing: they have a crush on you. 'S like snapping a lass' bra strap during recess." He dusted his hands off, then cleaned them the rest of the way on the wet neoprene still covering Lij's legs. "There. That's about all I can do for you. And speaking of lighthouses..." He slithered his own shirt off from the bottom and squeezed a generous dollop of lotion into his palm.

.

Dom sat back down, making a kissface at Elijah, who flipped him off. "Oh, quit being a ninny and go rinse it out, then, peach."

As Lij grudgingly unhooked his ankle strap and waded back out, Dom watched Billy strip from the waist up, grateful his shades disguised just how much he might be staring. Billy was pretty pale, true, but unlike boyish Elijah, he had the lovely filled out look of age. He was by no means ripped, but he was fit enough that when the red cotton came over his head, there was definition of his lats shifting with the lift and stretch. Oh, really? Two can play that game, he thought, unwrapping his lolli. Making sure Billy was looking (or appeared to be looking), he licked his lips slowly before curling his tongue around it and then sucking the ball into his mouth. He shifted the stick around with his tongue and grinned wickedly at the way Billy's slathering slowed considerably, and one of his eyebrows quirked over his shades.

"Hey, make sure someone gets your back," Sean called over to them, and Dom rolled his eyes. "You'll thank me later."

"Right, thank you later, Seanwise," Dom called, the corners of his mouth curling. "Need some help, Bills?"

Holy shit, this could be so fucking fun, he thought, hiding this thing from everyone, teasing the hell out of each other. The returns were almost guaranteed to be explosive.

.

In his distraction, watching Dom's tongue curl around the candy (really, a distraction he totally caused himself, and on purpose, no less), Billy accidentally re-lotioned one of his arms, causing it to shine white under the sun. Dom's eyebrows pulsed in amusement, his tongue moving the lolli to the inside of his other cheek. 

Billy conceded a win for him, handing the bottle of sunblock over without a fight. "Be thorough," he dropped his voice, turning and rolling his shoulders a bit. He focused on the water, now utterly crowded with surfers, kids, and swimmers, inhaling as Dom's hands finally fell to his skin. He was so fucking glad he pulled one off before coming here—otherwise, he'd be having a really tough time right about now.

He leaned ever so slightly back into Dom's warm, firm touch. "So, did you get a quick nap in?" He licked his lips, smiling, hoping Dom got the real question lurking underneath, knowing he would.

.

"No," Dom said, a smile in his voice, "But I kept busy. Found some things to... ah, reflect on, as it were."

He smoothed the greasy lotion into Billy's skin, making sure to work the muscles beneath as much as he could, knowing Billy must be a little sore, even if he kept it to himself. He worked his way downward and around the the meaty bit of Billy's sides, slipping a finger swiftly beneath the waistband of his trunks to stroke over his hip, gone and back up to safer ground before Billy could shoot a warning glance over his shoulder. The lolli stick clicked against his teeth as he grinned cheekily.

"Did you?" he rumbled, reluctantly pulling his hands away so as not to draw too much attention, and then saying fuck it, squirting little bit more into his palm as if he'd missed a spot over Billy's shoulder blade.

"Did he what?" Elijah asked, coming back dripping with his wetsuit hanging from his hips. Orlando followed, striding up with his board tucked under an arm. 

"Woo!" he shrieked, grinning dazzlingly at the pair of them. "You two came!"

Dom snorted, and covered it over with a cough and a sniffle, behind Billy's back.

.

"Hey, Orli. Did I nap?" Billy explained to Lij, turning. "I did." He rubbed some excess lotion off on his neck and chest, glancing sideways at Dom. "I napped quite hard, actually."

"Ooh, candy!" Orlando immediately ransacked Billy's stash, dripping all over his towel in the process. "Thanks, Bill." He feasted on a bunch of gummies. "Man, d'you see those waves? 'S fucking brilliant out there!" He took in Billy's attire. "You didn't bring your board?"

"No." Billy tugged at the ends of his hair, considering the water. "Mind if I take yours out for a bit?"

"No, mate." Orli doubled over, unfastening his cord from his ankle, and handed it over with a bright grin. "Show us novices how it's done."

"More like embarrass the shit out of us," Elijah mumbled with a shove to Billy's shoulder.

Billy gave him a good-natured shove back. "Shut it." He happily took the board from Orli, tucking it under his arm, reveling in the feel of it beneath his hands. Though he was still quite sore, a surf would be the perfect addition to an already pretty fucking brilliant if confusing day. 

He slipped his sunglasses off and tossed them in the pile with his towel, shooting a wink at Dom on his way out to the water. "See you in a bit."

.

Dom watched with envy and a little wistfulness as Billy bent down to attach the cord and ran out without a backward look, diving onto the board and taking long, clean strokes out to the big waves.

"He doesn't match."

Dom looked down to find Allie next to him, watching Billy as well, with another gummy worm with the head bitten off in her sandy fist. He grinned, looking back. "He doesn't?"

She shook her head, stuffing the gummy in her mouth and speaking around it. "No. He doesn't have a black thing on."

Dom exaggerated his understanding, "Ahhh. No, he doesn't. It's called a wetsuit. It keeps you warm when the water is cold. See?" He took her hand, leading her out to the edge of the water as it lapped up, just enough to cover their toes. She jumped and laughed at the chill of it.

He looked out, watching Billy crest a wave and then bail on the effort at the last second. Elijah and Orlando hollered at his failure, though he doubted Billy could hear out there. He was tempted to grab Elijah's board and go out himself.

"Look," he said as the wave pulled up on the shore and the sand beneath his toes skittered around as though it was alive. He grabbed a handful of the wet sand, pleased when the little animals that lived there turned up in his palm.

"Eww!" Allie shrieked, the sound more curiosity than terror. "Bugs!"

"Not bugs," Dom grinned, crouching down to show her. "These are amphipods," he poked and it scuttled a bit across his palm, "See? It cleans all the rubbish out of the sand. That's what it eats, the dead seaweed and stuff that washes up, makes the beach nice and clean. You want to hold one? It won't bite. I promise."

She held out her hands in a cup, and he gently dropped the little creature in her tiny palms. She squealed with laughter as it scuttled around, and he was rather proud she didn't drop it. "Better let it go now," he said, picking it back up and putting it in the water, where it immediately buried itself in the sand again, "They breathe water, like a fish, so they can't stay out very long."

While Allie dug for more amphipods, he glanced back out and watched as the lone idiot out there without a wetsuit jumped upright on his board over the crest of a big wave and held it, sailing along. He fairly glowed in the sunlight, white as he was, but he looked fantastic, so Dom wasn't complaining in the least.

"Yeah, Bills!" he yelled loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

.

Sometimes Billy wished the big waves extended all the way out to the middle of the ocean, that he could paddle all the way there and catch one without it ever having to crash on the shore. There was something appealing about never having to go back, never having to put his feet on solid ground again. It felt that way that day he and Dom spent hours on their boards, just drifting in the sunset. They both got lost out here, Billy admittedly a bit more so than Dom at times.

He knew he wouldn't stay in for long today—didn't want to hog Orli's board, and he was too fucking exhausted to really go at it—but just a decent wave or two was enough. Salt water in every orifice. Most people found it annoying, but to him it felt cleansing.

And he knew Dom loved to watch; that was probably the main reason he'd taken Orli's board out, if he was honest with himself. Billy rarely reveled in being on display, but Dom had tapped into his inner exhibitionist somewhat, like Dom looking at him the way he did made him believe he was something to look at. He wanted to keep him looking.

Laying on his board in still waters, he watched Dom crouching to interact with Allie at the shore, his face lighting exaggeratively. Dom would make a great father, he thought, not for the first time—but there was something melancholy in it this time. He couldn't put his finger on it.

He felt the water about to swell deep underneath him and paddled to beat it to the punch.

.

"Allie, what weird bugs does he have you holding now?" Sean came up behind them.

"Not bugs," Allie answered primly. "Ampy Pods."

"Come on, you need to wipe your hands."

Dom rolled his eyes as Sean dragged his protesting daughter away, standing in the surf alone to watch Billy paddle hard and fast to catch the next swell. The waves crashed into his knees, an endless ebb and flow. If he wanted to be metaphorical, that was their relationship for the most part, a consistent pull and push that just complemented the both of them, that felt completely natural. Last night had be a rogue wave, building and raging out from some mysterious thing out in the deep, dark water. So maybe slow was a good thing after all. A slow build up to the perfect storm.

Billy caught another big one, his form impeccable. Dom laughed, his arms shooting up high in victory instead of yelling. He wasn't sure if Billy saw, but he rode the wave out until it broke, and Dom walked back to their group, crunching up the remains of his lollipop.

Elijah and Orlando were steadily working through all of Billy's candy as he sat down with them and claimed the last handful of gummy worms.

"Man, how laid did you get last night to not want to get out there?" Elijah asked, stroking his stubby fingers down the side of Dom's neck.

Dom slapped him away, grinning, "Considerably more laid than you, obviously," he fired off, turning his grin smug. "I just got really pissed, that's all. And then we went to the park after breakfast and my allergies went off, so I'm not up for it. Still can't quite breathe right."

"Are you gonna go out with this girl again? She's a vicious one," Orlando leered.

Dom looked back out at Billy floating out there on the board with a secret smile on his face at the anticipation of all this. "Probably."

.

For a single blurred second, Billy saw Dom cheering him on as he rode the crest of that last one. He felt a great swell of pride as he capsized toward the end, the water there too shallow to do any real damage. The sea was surprisingly warm and welcoming today. He immediately paddled back out—force of habit—but knew he wouldn't try to catch another one.

Before coming here, he'd never have thought he'd take up something like this, but here he was, on the other side of the world, riding some of the angriest waves on days he shouldn't, like a mad bastard with a death wish. He squinted over at Dom, laughing and talking quietly with the others, sparkling even from all the way out here. Billy knew he had everything to do with his change. With a smile and a well-placed whinge, Dom could convince him to do almost anything, and after last night, that list had grown tenfold. 

Billy threw his legs out behind him, laying on his front on Orlando's board, feeling the smooth surface against his skin and the protest in some of his muscles from overuse. He smiled into the pillow of his arms. He could fall asleep right there, with the sun on his back, the water sloshing quietly against his board, and the muffled sounds of the other bathers. But there was something much more enticing calling him back to shore.

He stayed on his stomach, paddling with a series of mini-waves, and let them carry him back, watching Dom get bigger and bigger the whole way.

.

The sun was hot on Dom's back, and he pulled his own shirt off to let it penetrate further, listening with half an ear to Elijah chattering further about the 'awesomeness' of the surf. Sean stood and began gathering the scattered toys, even as Allie continued to dig in the sand, running to show Dom the shells she found.

He wondered what their mates would say if they knew, or if they eventually figured out what was going on. They were all so tactile with each other anyway, all of them having embraced the idea of such closeness because it was the simple, uninfluenced and unconcerned way of hobbits. But in reality, such innocent tolerance didn't exist. 

Allie had begun to cry, finally figuring out that her mum and dad were packing up to leave, trying to convince her it was time for lunch and then a nap, which was a keyword for a breakdown. Dom took the opportunity to scoop her up and point out the airplanes across the bay, watching as one big jet took off, distracting her enough to make the tears stop. He had her spread her arms wide and flew her around like a jet, creating peals of wild laughter just as Billy was striding up the beach, glistening and gorgeous as he shook the water from his hair.

.

As Billy slowly made his way through the sand, Orli's board tucked safely under his arm again, he watched Dom with Allie, gently appeasing her, and felt that sad clench again. It was way too early to be considering a future of that sort with Dom, but on the off chance that Billy grew to want that, would Dom be up for it, or would he crave something more... conventional? Would Billy be brave enough to give that normalcy up either?

He clenched his eyes, shaking these thoughts from his head—and more water from his hair. Fun, he reminded himself. That's what this is supposed to be about now. He eyed the expanse of Dom's back with envy as he ran with Allie the Airplane; he was already well on his way to a light caramel color, early in the New Zealand summer though it was. Billy'd never tanned a day in his life. Though, he supposed, he'd look really silly with one anyway.

"Thanks, Orli," he nodded, unfastening the cord and laying the board gently down in the sand. 

"No problem, mate." Orlando threw him his towel, dangling an empty plastic baggie in the air. "Finished all your sweets. Sorry."

"'S alright," Billy smiled, still invigorated but coming down. He eyed his sides as he dried off. "Don't think I need them anyway."

"Aww, I like your tum!" Orlando scrambled up, bringing sand with him, and gave Billy a squeeze around the middle.

"Hey!" Billy tried—and failed—to unfasten Orlando, too, and before long, Elijah'd gotten into it, and he was on his back in the wet sand.

.

"Oi!" Dom called, handing Allie to her mother, "Come on now, there are women and children present!" He tipped Chris a wink, "We can't have anyone getting the wrong idea now, can we?"

He shoved Elijah off and yanked Billy up, dusting him off (an valiant excuse to brush his hands over his arse). "Look at all these lovely bikini-clad women you could be chatting up, and you're tussling like a bunch of kindergarteners?"

"Right, because you're no longer a free agent?" Orli prodded, leaning back on his hands. "This magnificent twin of yours got you all tied up, Sblomie? I never figured you for a sub."

"Maybe Dom had both twins and Billy just watched," Elijah put in, raising a mischievous brow. 

Dom grinned hard as he lifted his shades to the top of his head and waggled his eyebrows. No, he wasn't going to say a thing, or make up any story. He'd just let them turn their sordid imaginations over and over again. He went over to give Allie and her mum goodbye kisses, slugged Sean on the arm, and scooped up the sunblock to lotion himself up, shooting a glinting look at Billy.

.

"He bloody wishes," Billy said finally, waving goodbye to the Astins. 

"Well, what was yours like?" Elijah sat in the sand, arms wrapped around his bent knees, rocking back and forth in anticipation. "You've been awfully quiet about her up until now."

"Obviously not as vicious as Dom's." Orlando poked Dom in the calf with his toe. Dom stuck his tongue out between his teeth in response. "You were at least able to get out on the water a bit."

"No, not nearly as mouthy as Dom's, apparently," Billy intoned, strolling over to Dom. He plucked the bottle of lotion from his hand, silently offering his assistance. Dom obediently turned his back to him. "But mine was quite loud," he mused, cocking his head in exaggerated contemplation.

Orlando and Elijah whooped, and Dom's neck became visibly redder under Billy's hands—and not from the sun. 

Billy elaborated before Orli and Lij could hit him with a follow-up: "Better than a porn star, she was." He deliberately lowered his mouth closer to Dom's ear, using the excuse of rubbing lotion over his shoulder blades. Dom was undeniably tense under his hands, but he wasn't running from Billy's ministrations; he was obviously all ears, waiting on more. Billy slowly ran his wet hands down either side of Dom's spine. "Oh, Billy. Oh Christ, please, yes."

.

Dom couldn't be more glad for having had time to wank before this. Billy pointing out just how noisy he'd been wasn't a surprise, he'd been told as much before. Though having himself mimicked in Billy's voice was both a tease and a challenge. He tilted his head just a bit, as if inviting Billy to take another little bite.

"Oooh, she remembered your name?" Orlando lounged back on his elbows, "That's a plus. Dom's was too busy taking bites out of him to say his, I bet. Or maybe she had him saying hers like a good boy."

"You've got this idea of me in your head, mate, I wonder where it comes from," he arched a wry brow at Orlando, so very tempted to mention precisely who enjoyed it most when Dom was on top, but no, he wouldn't kiss and tell. It would just drive them mad. "When have I ever been a good boy?"

.

The phrase good boy echoed in Billy's mind, made rich with possibility and imagery by Dom's gravely timbre. He tore his hands away from Dom's skin, spread out on his stomach on his open towel, and let his imagination wander.

Last night had been frantic, rushed. Billy couldn't help but wonder what he'd be able to do with Dom if given enough time. He wondered what Dom would be inspired to do, once the pressure of that first time was lifted. Billy had fantasies, things he'd only thought about doing, things he'd never even considered mentioning to his girlfriends because he was a gentleman, a good boy too. But he could insert Dom into those fantasies with no hesitation; last night had been frantic, yes, but it had also been boundless. Careful as he'd been with him, Billy'd also felt like he could've done or said anything to Dom, and he would've relished it.

He shut his eyes and breathed into the warm, damp crook of his arms, picturing Dom blindfolded and writhing, tied around the spindles of his headboard. He wondered if that would appeal to him at all. He had a feeling it would. 

Billy opened his eyes and looked up at Dom, silhouetted by the high, bright sun, smiling faintly down at him, wiping excess lotion off on his skin. He smiled back, barely registering the enthusiastic questions their friends continued shooting off in the background.

.

"I don't know the circumstances," Orlando grinned, "You might be perfectly willing to be good if there was, say, arseless chaps and a whip involved."

"Wait, did we decide on which one had the twin that was a dude?" Elijah asked.

"Dom, obviously. He's the gayer of the two."

Dom merely grinned down at Billy in silence. He lotioned his front and arms as the pair of them strapped the boards back to their ankles and jogged back out to the surf. Then he spread his own towel out beside Billy's and lay back on it, hitched up on his elbows to watch the pair of them paddle out.

"The gayer of the two," he muttered with amusement, pulling his shades back over his eyes again. Looking sideways over Billy's slightly freckled back, lovely slender waist and the rise of his little bum. Maybe gayer than I figured, he thought, dropping his voice low, though no one was really close enough to hear, "Was I pretty noisy? I never realize it until people tell me."

.

Billy's eyes dropped to the muscles on Dom's stomach, watching them glisten and bunch. "Wasn't complaining," he clarified, a smile in his voice. "And yes, you were... enthusiastic, shall we say?"

Dom couldn't hide his flush, even as he tried to look focused on their friends out in the waves. 

"And you are the gayer of the two of us. There's no doubt about it." Billy let his eyelids fall shut, pretending to drift off, knowing Dom wouldn't let him. That slow anticipatory burn ignited low in his stomach as he felt the air next to him shift. It was quickly becoming a permanent fixture with Dom. Billy really did fear for his own focus come tomorrow morning.

.

"Said the one who buggered me senseless," Dom rumbled, leaning low and close as he flipped over to lie on his stomach as well. "You weren't exactly silent yourself."

He pulled his shades off and tossed them aside with Billy's, smiling across the towels at him. The sun felt good, warming his muscles further to carry the soreness away as he tried to imagine how this would go. They'd spend days on set, hours working, or waiting to work, joking back and forth, teasing each other even as the others didn't realize it. Maybe they could sneak off to their trailer or dressing room for a quick hand job to take the edge off. He tried to imagine that, the pair of them in costume with their hands down each other's pants, make-up around their mouths blurred and smeared, the snaps in the crotch of that fucking fatsuit undone. He breathed a chuckle. God, it was so wrong. But he didn't care.

He took a deep, happy breath. Anticipation was an amazing thing. He hoped it would carry him through the next few days and the holiday. "I'm holding you to that second first kiss," he murmured, smiling.

.

Billy opened his eyes, picturing the pair of them next to each other like this, lying identically, twins themselves. He couldn't wipe the smile from his face; he was sure someone would call him on it eventually. 

He wished with everything he had that the rest of the beach would fall away, or that everyone else on it would disappear, at least. It had barely been an hour, and he couldn't wait until they were alone again. He couldn't wait until the next few days of filming were over, so he could go home, get through that, and come back here. He couldn't wait to start this properly. All the fear, the jealousy, what the rest of the fucking world thought: it could wait.

"I won't disappoint you," he quietly promised.


	10. The Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December, Glasgow/Manchester ~ 1999

It wasn't until the house fell completely silent that Billy started feeling homesick, which was ironic, considering he was in his grandmother's house with his sister snoring down the hall. For him, there was nothing closer to home than this.

Still, as he puttered around his room—the one he'd occupied through his teen years and much of his twenties, between time at school and on out-of-town gigs—he found himself longing for noise, heat, drink, conversation. He had a vision of flinging the back door open and throwing himself out into the backyard, running over patches of grass and concrete, hopping over fences from yard to yard until he reached the other side of the world. The idea of even touching the cold wood brought him a chill, though. His bones had almost forgotten such chill, such damp fucking cold. The rain and the grey were home; they were cast over all of his memories, good and bad. But he wasn't ready to be back under them just yet.

He turned on his heel and walked restlessly down to the kitchen, mindlessly throwing on a pot of tea. He'd been downing it like water since he'd gotten here nearly two days ago. He held his hands over the warmth of the flame and glanced up at the clock on the microwave: 12:23. He shook his head at himself; he hadn't gotten to sleep before three the night before, and he didn't imagine doing much better tonight. The tea probably wasn't helping, he realized with a grimace.

As he poured his tea into a big wide mug that sat low and fat on the counter (his favorite), he pondered the paperback copy of Return of the King sitting on his bedside table. On one hand, it would probably help him sleep. On the other, it wouldn't help shrink the growing empty space at the pit of his stomach. He thought of the word "Merry," printed so elegantly on the aging tan page, carrying so much more than it did only weeks ago.

Without a thought, he ended up back in his room, sitting on the side of his bed, staring at the book and his mobile, sitting bright and shiny beside it. After a couple of sips, he picked it up, keyed into his list of contacts, and scrolled down, smiling at Dom's name burning bright not far from the top.

.

Dom felt like a complete fucking idiot. Slightly less so during the day, having Christmas Eve things to distract him, helping his mum with the cooking, kicking Matt's arse with a football in the yard, falling asleep during Mass. But anytime he'd been left to his own devices, mostly during the long nights which he'd spent wide awake, still stubbornly stuck on Wellington time, he found himself staring at his phone.

How did the rules go? If you called a girl the day after a date, you were needy. If you called the day of the date, you were definitely desperate. If you called two days after, you were interested, but playing it cool. If you called three days after – god, this was ridiculous. It was fucking Billy, who he'd once called simply to inform him of a particularly satisfying bowel movement. It was Billy who he'd called drunk completely off his arse at roughly this same time on a night when Billy had opted to stay in to tell him about Elijah's spectacular dismissal by an incredibly hot girl. It was Billy, who–

He jumped, as the phone in his hand rang and vibrated, the sound so loud in the dead quiet of night that he didn't even chance waiting for the ID to come up before answering.

"H'lo?"

.

"Hi." Billy shut his eyes and stood, starting to pace. He didn't quite believe he'd actually made the call until he'd heard Dom's voice. "It's Billy," he clarified, feeling like an idiot.

He stuck a hand down the back of his flannels, just under the waistband, grasping the material. He tried focusing on the feel of it against his skin instead of on how hard his heart was pounding. Christ, he hadn't been this nervous about calling someone in years.

.

"Oh. That's good," Dom said, his face nearly splitting in two as his heart did a somersault. He bit his lip, "I thought it might be... erm, I thought it might be..." he floundered, squeezing his eyes shut. Fuck. Truthfully, he could not come up with a punchline, because he was too bloody chuffed to hear Billy's voice.

"I buggered that one right up, didn't I," He laughed down the line, shrinking down into his pillows and lowering his voice, "Hi. You're awake. Feels like it should be lunchtime."

He picked up his pen and tapped the open page of his journal beside him with it. "So... Happy Christmas."

.

"Happy Christmas to you," Billy laughed, face stretching with it. Even in its tinny phone form, Dom's voice still hit him like a warm, thick wave of honey. "'M glad you're awake, too, I didn't know if I should call or not..."

Dom sounded recumbent. Billy had a vision of him laying in some cozy little bed with his phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder, and felt that ache again. He walked back over to his own bed and fell on his back, tea and book forgotten. "What are you up to? How's home?"

.

"It's good," Dom answered, "The usual. Matt's in. The cousins might come up tomorrow or the next day. Mum's fretting over everything a bit more than necessary, but... I guess she has an excuse." Dom frowned. Truthfully, things were a bit weird. Quiet and strained, especially without his young cousins around yet to liven things up.

He'd gone to Gran's grave on his own time the day before, very purposefully alone. He hadn't stayed long, but long enough to sit for a few minutes and let it really set in. So when his mum suggested they go see her before Mass tonight, he'd refused to go with them, which had started a big fuss that only ended when Matt surprisingly jumped to his defense. Of course, Matt knew where he'd gone and why, he'd borrowed his car to do it.

Hearing Billy's voice was like a balm to that rawness. He looked at the journal, and the fair dozens of pages he'd filled on the flight home and while he was up nights here, thinking of little but Billy and New Zealand, and how strange that he hadn't realized how firmly those two things had settled so into his life until they were gone.

He traced over and over the letters of Billy's name on the paper. "How about you? What have you been doing?"

.

The slight strain in Dom's voice didn't go unnoticed by Billy; it suddenly hit him that this was his first time home since his Gran went back in September. He sighed, wishing he could be there to help him through it. "Not much. Mostly going out of my mind," he admitted with a laugh. "Maggie and the kids are here, but it's still too quiet."

Billy threw his free arm above his head, grazing the wall with his knuckles. "Went to the pub the other night with some old friends I hadn't seen in a while, guys I used to play in a band with." He'd considered who Dom might be seeing over break, that girl he'd broken up with just before coming out to work on Rings—Meg. He'd considered it all too much, really. "...How's your family?"

He closed his eyes, settling into the mattress as Dom's voice penetrated him. With a rueful smile, he realized he wasn't up for talking much, just listening.

.

"They're okay," Dom said, "Matt's moving to Spain in a month, so Mum's fussing over him as much as me."

He closed and tossed the journal over toward his bag. "You saw your old bandmates?" he smiled, images of Billy singing in his head. He remembered well how the first time he'd heard him sing sent shivers through him. "Did you jam? I saw some old mates too."

He thought of the conversation he'd had with Meg the first night back, his pulse going a little faster. Just the idea of telling Billy got his nerves going. "I, ah... I chatted with an old girlfriend, actually." 

.

"Yeah?" Billy tried his best—and probably failed miserably—to sound casual about it. His heart gave a start, his own mates totally forgotten. He wondered if Dom was testing him; he'd already admitted to him that avoiding jealousy wasn't his strongest point. A few people he'd been with before had found it charming, a turn-on even. He remembered Gavin cornering him at a friend's party in drama school, pulling him into the den and showing him just how much he appreciated the burning looks Billy'd shot him across the room all night.

But more often that not, situations like that usually ended in the other person spewing, "The fuck's your problem?" and walking off, sometimes for good. He couldn't let that happen with Dom. He had to be careful. He closed his eyes and swallowed, steeling himself. "How'd that go?"

.

Dom grinned at the forced apathy in Billy's words. "Went alright, I guess, we just talked over beer. She's all about the single life these days, apparently."

He recalled the conversation, the way Meg had so casually asked about how the filming was going, the other cast members, what he did for fun. Surfing had blown her away, even if he didn't tell her how bad at it he still was. She'd been sweet and amused and even a little flirty, all reasons he'd liked her in the first place.

"She... erm. She sort of came on to me, actually. One for old times sake, you know?" He squeezed his eyes shut, his voice going even quieter in the night, hanging on for dear life to hear Billy's response to how he'd answered for that. "I told her I was seeing someone."

.

Billy bit his lip, fighting his widest smile yet, of many more, no doubt. "Mm, are you?," he rumbled. "This is the first I'm hearing of it."

On the other end, Dom huffed a quiet breath Billy couldn't quite interpret but could safely assume was a somewhat annoyed flavor of amusement.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense: who is she? What's she like?"

.

Dom wasn't sure what he'd hoped for, but if Billy was willing to joke about it, that was good too. And his questions were very nearly the same things Meg had asked. He'd phrased himself carefully then, not because he thought she'd judge (she was probably one of the least likely to), but mostly because it was all so new, he just didn't want to push it.

"We work together, just one of those people you hit it off with, you know?" he said, giving Billy the same coy answer he'd given her. "Sweet. Funny as hell. Talented, always a turn-on."

.

Billy waited the perfect beat, probably leaving Dom in a state of utter mortification, then dropped a playful, "Did I tell you to stop?" Dom responded with a heavy sigh. Billy shook with quiet laughter, minding his sister two rooms away; he knew firsthand how thin the walls were.

He was sure to shelve Dom's list of compliments, though he was unsure how to respond to them. Ultimately, he went with honesty. "Sounds too good to be true. She's probably completely prissy and full of herself. You know, the kind of girl that fishes for compliments, needs you to tell her how fantastic she is twenty times a day. She'll turn into a right pain in the arse in a couple of weeks or so. You'll see."

.

"Sounds like some actors I know," Dom chuckled.

He reached over and turned off the lamp, scrunching under the covers, cursing the drafty old house. "Some of them, though," he said as he pushed a hand up under his t-shirt, "I think some of them need to hear how lovely they are, now and then. In case they don't quite believe it."

He stretched, grumbling quietly, his body lazy but his mind still wide awake, thinking of when they'd get back and promises made. "A couple of weeks is a long time."

.

"Too long," Billy admitted, Dom's words warming him better than his now probably lukewarm tea ever could have. "I miss you." He pressed his mobile closer to his ear in the vain hope that it might bring Dom with it. "It's strange, I mean... I know we've all been bitching about being homesick and feeling so far away, but. I'm feeling more homesick here, you know? Didn't realize how not ready I was to come back."

Billy thought of their goodbye, the last few moments they'd had together before break in Viggo's foyer: Dom's arms tight around him and his mouth surreptitiously pursed to the skin under his ear. "I wish you were here."

.

"I guess we won't be complaining about it when we get back, eh?" Dom murmured, petting his fingers over his tum.

This separation was made worst by the weirdness of their flights back. It seemed logical that he, Orli and Billy would be on the same flight into London, bearing the brunt of the trip together before separating at Heathrow. But for some reason, Billy'd been stuck on Elijah's flight into LA the night before Dom's, and then he'd gone on to Glasgow from there. Not that anyone taking care of travel arrangements cared, but it had been just a sharp reminder of the fact that they'd become so close, so fast.

Plus he'd spent at least eight hours talking to Orli before the twat finally passed out and gave him some peace to write in his journal.

"I miss you too," he whispered, "I keep thinking of... I dunno. Conversations we've had, Vig's party, that camping trip. That night." He breathed a laugh as he heard Billy take in a breath. "I think of that night at some sort of inopportune times."

.

Billy spluttered a laugh, tugging at the ends of his hair. "Not during Mass, I hope. Though I suppose we both already have our share of Hail Marys to say after that night, eh?"

Dom let out a quiet laugh, one that let Billy know he was still very much thinking of that night.

"I told Maggie," Billy whispered, his heart giving a start again. "Not everything," he laughed. "But that we'd really hit it off, and, ehm... She was very surprised. She used to watch Hetty, and I think she still thinks of you as a teenager." Billy opened his eyes to the ceiling, going suddenly contemplative. "I think she also thought she'd never see me with a guy again, that it was a phase or something. I'd considered that, too." He smiled, his voice going warm. "You foul temptress. Destroying any hope I had of being a normal, law-abiding citizen."

.

Dom shifted in the dark. That was another thing that he envied, the closeness Billy had with his sister. He loved Matt and all, but in the event this thing actually lasted, Matt would be the last to know. Already when he'd talked about his castmates with family, Matt had pointed out just how much he mentioned Billy. Sheesh, it's like you're in love with him or something, he'd said. As accepting as his family was of his quirks, he wasn't at all sure how they'd take to him bringing a bloke home.

"You did that yourself when you went to drama school," he said with a grin, "You're British, you know, so scale it back a bit."

He dropped the phone to pull his t-shirt over his head. Even as cold as it was, he hated the way they twisted around him in sleep. He grabbed the phone again and burrowed his head under the covers.

"So," he said, knowing Billy could hear the mischief in his voice as he dropped it even lower, "What are you wearing?"

.

Billy's already omnipresent smile stretched wider, both at Dom's line and the tell-tale sound of clothing and sheets rustling. He lifted his head to glance down at his ensemble. "Probably not what you're hoping for. It's fucking freezing here, so I'm all bundled up." He pulled at the hem of his jumper, trying to imagine Dom in his childhood room with no reference point.

"You sound like you're getting awfully comfortable. What's going on over there? Did I hear a shirt being removed?" Billy's tone was a gentle tease, but his body had already begun to stir. The possibility of their conversation taking this kind of turn certainly crossed his mind before he'd even pressed Send.

.

"Maybe," Dom teased. "S' freezing here too, we're getting the arse-end of the storm you just had. But you know I hate sleeping with clothes on."

He opened his eyes wide in the pure dark under layers of blankets, the air warm with his body heat. The warmth of his skin drew his hands, and he rubbed at one nipple as the blankets muffled his voice. "I don't think my mum's guest shower has ever seen quite so much action, though. I just think you should know."

.

Billy let out a little growl under his breath and let his hand creep up under the soft material of his jumper, fingertips running through the bit of hair just under his navel. "What am I going to do with you?" His question was both rhetorical and anticipatory. 

.

Dom let out a little huff of breath at that noise, barely stopping himself from pushing his hand under his flannels. He grinned with his tongue between his teeth, so thrilled that he could get Billy's voice to go all breathy like that with a few well chosen words.

"What to you want to do with me?"

.

"What a question," Billy mused. With too many answers, he thought with a smile. "Give me a second."

He tossed the phone aside and, with a dramatic puff of breath, heaved himself up off the mattress, shuffled to the door, and shut it quietly. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring ruefully at his mobile pressing into the duvet, the only physical representation he really had of Dom for the next two weeks. He breathed, shaking his head at himself as he gently pulled the sheets back. He'd rarely done this before, and it'd been years since the last time. And his previous experiences with it had never really called for a repeat performance, in all honesty. But if the way Dom was in person was any indication, Billy was in for an explosive fucking conversation.

He snuggled deep under the covers, settled his head into the pillows, and brought the phone back to his ear, pitching his voice lower than before. "What do I want to do with you... do you have flannels on? Tell me where your hands are." 

.

Dom laughed, feeling completely silly as he listened to the sounds on the other end of the line - the creak of a mattress, the snick of a door, cloth rustling, and then Billy's breath as he scooped the phone back up. He couldn't believe Billy was up for this sort of thing. Dom hadn't played out a naughty phone call since his school days, and he wagered Billy hadn't either.

At his thoaty question, Dom's eyes fell shut, the desire stirring under the surface perking up, and he purposefully drew his hand back up to safer territory. "M' wearing pajamas, yeah. One hand on the phone and the other... on my chest." He rubbed his fingers up under his collarbone. "Where're yours? And you never answered, what are you wearing?"

.

"Oh, 's very sexy," Billy deadpanned, peering at his pajamas again underneath the covers. "A ratty old green jumper from drama school with holes in the armpits and a pair of flannels. Are you turned on yet?"

On the other end, Dom let out a quiet laugh that was amused but anything but turned off.

"And my hands are at my sides, like a good boy. Now be a love and take off your pants."

.

Dom moved to comply, going from feeling giddy to lusty obeisance in seconds at Billy's rather whimsical order. Pushing the flannels down under the covers, he plucked them up and tossed them out somewhere on the floor.

"Right, then," he murmured, tucking the phone into the crook of his neck so he'd have both hands free. "All due respect, I think the jumper should go. I know it's cold, but I reckon you'll warm up soon enough."

.

"Fuck," Billy breathed, a sharp thrill going through him at the knowledge that Dom was completely naked. That he knew what that looked like, that he could conjure the image behind his eyes in vibrant, vibrating color, made the thrill that much more acute. "Alright." He steeled himself, pulling the jumper off over his head and throwing it across the room. He shivered and squirmed under the covers as he pressed the phone back to his ear.

"It's off," Billy said softly, mouth not quite warm enough to work properly yet. He closed his eyes and rubbed his arms with his hands. "I can see you, you know. I remember exactly what you look like. Every inch. The mole on the side of your neck, the bit of hair in the middle of your chest, the color of your nipples. The bite I left on your thigh. ...Is it still there?"

.

"Yeah," Dom breathed, reaching for it impulsively but stopping short of the mark to pull his hand back, "It's fading a bit, but... I've, ah. I've made a point to keep it there."

He thought back to Mass, after his dad had poked him to wake him up, the way he'd begun swinging his knee out and in, at first just fidgeting, but then reminded, each time the inseam of his suit trousers rubbed, of that night. He was going to hell for sure.

He inhaled deeply, sliding his hand up over his torso, toying with the patch of fine hair Billy spoke of. He smiled, knowing he didn't have much of it yet. "I can see you too. No reason to cover those pecs, they're so intriguing. I may have to explore this in further detail someday."

.

Billy's eyes went wide and bright in the dim room. "How did you—?" He obediently lowered his hands, one to his side and the other to his stomach again. Dom's words already had him warming up really quick, anyway. "Hold on a minute," he insisted, backtracking. "What's this about you working to keep my mark on you? How are you managing that?"

.

Dom laughed quietly, "Don't get too excited sweetheart, I'm not that flexible."

He wriggled, sprawling a bit under the covers, humming a bit. "The ones on my neck are pretty much gone, but the that one..." he paused, his breath deepening, "In the shower, I've been pressing on it. If I dig my nails in, it's like your teeth..."

His hand was sneaking down over his hip on the outside. He had no idea why he was waiting to touch himself, except that the idea of Billy telling him what to do was so hot.

.

Billy let out a harsh breath that sounded like "Huh." Jesus, that was an image. He squirmed under the sheets, licking his lips, hoping to catch the memory of Dom's skin in his mouth. His flannels were a soft pressure at the juncture of his own thighs, not nearly enough. Still, he kept his hands where they were.

"Don't do that now, not yet." The authority in Billy's voice was a surprise to even him. "I want you to tease yourself a bit. I know I didn't that night... but that's because I couldn't help myself. In the future, I won't be so nice, I promise you."

He let his eyes drift shut again, an errant hand creeping up to skate over one of his nipples. "Close your eyes. Want you to bring your hand up to your neck and give it a scratch, like you did in the shower. Go on."

.

Dom pulled his hand swiftly to the sheets at the instruction, smiling at how easily Billy gave orders, and how happily he took them.

"'In the future'," he parroted, "All these promises I can't wait to collect on."

He did as he was bidden, closing his eyes and lifting his hand up. "Where on my neck? Where you bit me before?" He bit his lip in glee, whispering, "People will see."

.

"That's the point. Sweetheart." Billy angled his mobile toward his mouth. "Exactly where I bit you, yeah. You haven't forgotten where they were, have you?"

Dom merely moaned a little in response, obviously already having taken his order.

"That's good. Give yourself a pinch or two, as well. Hard."

.

When he raked his nails over his neck, Dom was surprised at just how much more of a sense memory it was with the addition of Billy's firm, rough-edged voice in his ear. Even pinching the mark on his thigh while wanking in the shower wasn't quite as powerful.

He pinched as instructed, wincing at the burn of it over the scratch, imagining his mum looking at him tomorrow morning with concern. Already his mind sprang up excuses, the childhood habit of scratching himself in the night prime among them. Of course, he hadn't done that in decades.

Squirming under the sheets, his other hand traveled over his chest, pinching his nipple as well, sending jolts coursing through him as he imagined Billy's pointy teeth on his skin.

"Mouthy bastard," he muttered, "I might have to retaliate one of these days."

.

"Another promise for the record books," Billy shot back, moving his feet restlessly under the sheets at the sounds on the other end. He both feared and looked forward to the day when Dom took charge, made him beg, ordered him around. Dom had such power over him already; there was no telling what he'd be willing to do for him.

"Speaking of mouthy, put your fingers in there. Get them good and wet for me. Just the middle and the index." Billy sighed in anticipation. "God, I love that mouth." He pictured the cocky slant of it. "Sometimes I think it has more attitude than you."

.

Dom obeyed, tilting the phone so Billy would hear him sucking on them until they were moist. He shivered at the sound of Billy professing love, even if it was for mere body parts (which he'd done for bits of Billy in his head for months now, and confessed aloud to a few of them before this all came to a head).

"Wondering where these fingers have been, eh?" he pushed his voice down low, giving Billy the attitude he was looking for, "Or am I anticipating you?"

.

"Christ," Billy breathed, not so much at Dom's words but at Dom's voice saying them. "Has anyone ever told you that you could make a fantastic career at this? You know, if the films flop." Dom's voice fit him to a tee: bold and uncompromisingly unique, hard and gentle all at once.

"Just bring them down the center of your body," Billy found his place again, "through the hair and down to that bite on your thigh." He waited, his ear catching on a nearly imperceptible whimper in the back of Dom's throat. "Now get it wet and give it a pinch, too." He waited, his own back arching just off the mattress at the gasping moan that came through the receiver. His hand crept down under the waistband of his flannels, fingers curling just around the base of his cock. He released a breath he didn't realize was caught in the back of his own throat. "Feel good? What are you picturing in your head?"

.

Dom hummed into the phone, digging his fingers into his bruised thigh, the knuckle of his thumb close enough to nudge up against his balls. He remembered Billy's nose down there, nudging and pushing them out of the way...

"You," he breathed, "You going down on me like you did, driving me fucking mad."

He was plenty hard now, his cock jerking against his belly as he pinched his abused skin, his other hand coming back up to work the scratch on his neck to further rawness.

"Did you like that?" he asked, curious and wicked, "Did you like the taste of me?"

.

"Yeah," Billy breathed, his voice going higher. He gave in to temptation, giving himself a full-on stroke, a hard, punishing one that it literally hurt not to repeat. "Can still taste you in the back of my throat right now." It wasn't a line; he remembered every sensation from that night. He knew the memory wouldn't last, though, no matter how mind-blowing it'd been. He'd considered starting a journal like Dom, just to commemorate it. "I could've done that all night. Wish I'd had you come in my mouth." He stroked again, using all of his control to keep it slow, make it last. For all Dom knew, he wasn't touching himself at all.

.

"Fuck," Dom gasped, clawing the sheets down to breathe the cool night air. He pulled his hands up, away, gripping the phone to keep it close to his mouth and ear, the other pushing through the sweat beginning to sprout on his chest. He could feel a bead of precome rise up and seep along the head onto his belly, torturously tickling.

"I want that," he growled, "I want to fuck your mouth, see you take my cock." He grabbed a handful of sheets and squeezed them in his fist, asking in a rush, "Billy, can I touch it? I need to."

He nearly thrashed under the blankets, their meager weight all the pressure he had to rub against and nowhere near enough.

.

Billy exhaled hard, smiling at how good Dom was being, at how sadistic he was about to be himself. This was hurtling hard and fast toward completion. He wanted to draw it out as much as he possibly could.

"Not yet," he said firmly, unsure who he was talking to. He exerted every iota of will power he had to move his hand back down to the base of his cock and squeeze. He could picture it so clearly, Dom in a bed in a country far away, that perfect colt of a body writhing under the sheets. "Are your fingers still wet? You know where I want them now, don't you?"

.

"Oh fucking Christ, Billy," Dom worked to slow his breathing, "They're... hang on, let me wet them more."

He sucked and licked his two fingers again, working up the saliva in his mouth. He'd done this a couple times since, in the shower, and was surprised at how easily his body remembered it.

"Should I go in from the back or the front?" he asked, "How do you want me?"

.

A growl eked its way out of Billy's throat again, a broken, desperate thing. Dom was more than a natural at this, almost too obedient. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of... "The back. Will that work? Can you...?" It was a needless question; Billy knew well now that Dom was bendy enough for anything.

"No need to go up on your knees. Just lay on your side." He heard Dom instantly shifting on the other end. "Like that," he approved, picturing him. "Wish I could see you. You're so gorgeous."

.

Dom sucked in a breath and held it, arching his back and pressing his fingers into his body. He whimpered a bit at the way his body protested and then took the intrusion, such a weird feeling.

He pumped them a bit, marveling at that phrase. Gorgeous. He'd been called so many things, but never that, and Billy thought so. Billy, who wore his Everyman looks so unabashedly, nothing about him unnecessary.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Let me see you."

.

"I'm—" Billy felt his face going hot; he had no trouble putting the attention on someone else, no matter how lascivious, but this part always left him a little bashful. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I have one hand on my chest... the other on my cock. Just holding it, trying to be good. 'S hard, though." He breathed the start of a laugh. "I mean, difficult. Your voice drives me fucking crazy."

Billy took a deep breath, gathering courage. "You've got me more than halfway there already. 'S dripping onto my stomach. 'M not going to give it a pull, though, not until you tell me to." He inhaled shakily, the combination of his own words and the control he was quickly losing too much. "Talk to me, Dom. Tell me what you're feeling." 

.

Dom gripped the phone tight with his free hand, surprised Billy was waiting on him as much as he was looking to Billy for direction. That Billy had his cock in hand and was exerting such control had him biting his lip at the thought.

"Got my fingers inside me," he muttered, "I can't move them much, the... the spit dries up too fast, but even moving just a little feels good." He took a deep breath in, pulling his topmost knee up to open himself more. The movement rubbed his glans against the mattress and he suppressed a groan in his pillow. "I'm so hard, Bills. My cock... laying this way, the tip of my cock's brushing the bed a bit. 'S so hard. Can I? You can too, if I can."

.

"Mm hmm," Billy breathed, voice high and tight in the back of his throat. If he were there with Dom—God, if he were there—he'd be able to really draw this out, talk him through it. He'd be laying right behind him, flush, Dom's warm, tight back just damp enough to be sticking to his chest. He'd be able to lick the sweat off the back of his neck while reaching over and pumping his cock from behind, like it was his own.

He moaned low into the mouthpiece as he rolled his hips up nice and slow into his fist, his mind reeling with images. "Dom. I can't wait to get back. Want you riding me again. I can't stop thinking about it. How good you looked on top of me with your legs spread." He swirled his thumb over the head of his prick, spreading precome there. "What do you want to do with me when we get back? Tell me."

.

"Oh fuck," Dom whispered, working out a rhythm where he could work his fingers and push his cockhead against the mattress. "I want that too. Want you fucking me, jesus, I never thought it would feel so good."

He tried to move faster, but he was getting a cramp in his back and shoulder in this position, and ultimately had to pull his fingers out, dropping the phone in the process and he grunted with the pain, rolling to his back and sitting up to rotate his arm and relieve the strained muscle. He fished the phone out of the sheets back up to his ear. "Sorry, I got a cramp and had to move."

Lying back down, he took several deep breaths to calm himself before pushing his hand back down under the sheets to palm himself. "I can touch my cock, right? I'll be good, I won't come."

Billy gave an affirmative mumble, his breathing tightly controlled through the line. Dom tried to match it with his own, keeping the pace on his cock slow. "I want you fucking me again. I want to spread you out and taste every part of you. Want to taste your cock. I didn't do much to it, did I? That night. Never done that, but I want to. With you."

.

Billy couldn't help letting out a low laugh, even as he stroked himself harder. The image of Dom getting a cramp as a casualty of phone sex was something he couldn't not find the humor in, even in the heat of the moment. But surprisingly, it didn't make him any less turned on, especially when Dom was right back on track, breathing promises into his ear.

The idea that Dom had never gone down on a guy—and that he wanted to with Billy—was almost too much. "You'd be so good at it. You know that, don't you? I've thought about it a lot. I imagined doing it in front of that mirror in your room," he admitted, his face growing hotter again. "With you on your knees and my hands in your hair. That gorgeous, wet mouth..."

Billy reached down with his other hand and stroked along that strip of skin, the one Dom loved so much but that he rarely explored himself. He bit his lip and groaned. "D'you know what I'm doing now? I've got my fingers on your favorite place."

.

"Oh, god, Billy," Dom's breath shivered out of him at the image of Billy touching himself there. He cradled the phone and reached his other hand down to do the same, giving his balls a squeeze on the way. "That's so hot. Rub it, push your fingers down on it, all the way to your arsehole. Feels so good."

He listened to BIlly suck a breath in through bared teeth, squirming himself at the idea that BIlly was doing what he was told. "I want to put my mouth there like you did, wanna suck your cock and push your legs apart. Work my cock back there, god, Billy, I want to fuck you. Want to get my cock inside you."

It took every effort for him to pull his hand away, just rub at the bruise on his thigh lightly and grip himself by the balls to slow down, swallowing around breaths, fearing for a moment he'd said too much.

.

He didn't know if it was Dom telling him to do it, those oh-so-specific instructions, or just the physical action of doing it, but rubbing himself there, all the way from front to back, ignited a cluster of sparks low in his stomach.

He gasped, sharp and shaky, at Dom's words, at that revelation. His head tilted back into the pillows, his eyes rolling back. "You do? Fuck. Dom, I didn't—." He worked himself faster, fucking his fist outright. "On my back, on my knees, or on my stomach? How do you want me when we get back?" He gasped again at what'd just fallen from his mouth, another promise he couldn't take back—and didn't want to, not at all.

.

"Oh my god you'd let me...? You want–" Dom whimpered, and unable to restrain himself, stroked himself hard and fast for several beats before slowing, sweat breaking out all over.

He turned a little, hitching a leg up and tenting the covers, hissing into the phone, "Jesus, I want all of that, Billy. Can I? God, I want to fuck the hell out of you, every way."

He turned his head, pushing the phone into the gap between the pillows with his ear over it, pushing his cock through his tight hand as slow as he could stand, listening to BIlly's gasps and breathy moans.

"You're so fucking sexy," he breathed, "You have no idea, do you? Jesus, I want you so much."

.

That miniscule thread of control spun thin, thinner, and broke with each new phrase that spilled from Dom's mouth. Sexy. So fucking sexy. Dom was right: he definitely didn't think of himself that way, and not many other people did, either, not the girls or the guys he'd been with. He'd always been cute, adorable, sweet.

"You have me. Pretend I'm there, pretend I'm there with you." Billy tried his best to slow his stroke, focused on working Dom up with his words. "Pretend you're fucking me now. You've got me on my stomach, my hands above my head and my face in the pillow." His words ended up ratcheting him up probably almost as much as Dom, precome leaking out over his knuckles. "Fuck. You're pushing into me hard and fast, and I fucking love it, I'm pushing back onto you just as hard." He scratched a nail along that skin again, thought of Dom down there teething it. "Christ, you're so long, it's going to hurt, but I don't care."

.

Dom fairly bleated out a noise at that, flipping to his stomach and on widespread knees, his face and shoulders pressed in the pillow while both hands made a tight hold to drive into. The phone was by his face, but he could hear Billy's voice, tinny without being pressed to his ear, but his words egging him to near madness.

"God. God Billy, fucking you," he silenced himself consciously, suddenly aware of the noise, the squeak of the bed, and readjusted to pump his cock instead of fucking his fists. "I want to come. Wanna come all over your back, your arse. I'll lick it off when I'm done. Billy, I'm really close," he voice shrank to a high whisper, "I'm so fucking close. Let me come. Can I come?"

.

Billy's hands slowed to a near stop at the definitive change in sound quality on the other end. He knew exactly what Dom was doing, and he couldn't believe it. On the other hand, he wouldn't have expected anything less. "Go on, Dom. Come on me," he breathed.

He pressed the phone to his ear, listening hard as Dom's breath came faster, his moans pitched higher and higher, closer to how he knew them to be from experience, the way they were in those last moments as he came apart on top of him.

.

Dom turned his head and closed his teeth on the pillowcase as he came, closing his hand over the tip of his cock in an attempt to catch most of the mess pulsing out of him. At the end he drew in a huge breath and let it go, his thighs burning as he shifted to his side, bringing his sticky hand up and out from the covers. Already he could feel drips he'd missed on the sheets beneath him. For several moments he listened, fearing he'd been too loud, sure someone would have noticed, but the bright blue numbers on the clock read nearly two AM, and not a sound could be heard.

"Fuck," he rumbled, rolling to his back and groping for the phone. "Bills? Still there?" He considered his hand, glistening in the moonlight, and brought it to his mouth to taste.

.

At the sound of Dom's muffled groan, Billy threw his head back, letting the phone drop from his shoulder, nearly under the pillow. With his free hand, he violently pushed the sheets off and his flannels down, exposing himself to the cool night air from head to knee, and circled his hips up into his fist the same way he rolled up into Dom only days before, arse already getting sore from clenching up and off the mattress. "Jesus," he exhaled.

He could vaguely hear Dom's voice coming through the receiver, a molecular drawl asking for him, but Christ he needed to come. His own voice had gone all high and breathy, always sort of embarrassing in hindsight, but he turned his head so Dom could hear it. A montage of images flashed behind his eyelids lightning fast: Dom wrapping his long tongue around his cock, the clench of Dom's stomach muscles as he came, Dom's perfect arse stretching to accommodate him and then pushing back to meet his first thrust, Dom pushing his knees apart and curling two of those long, elegant fingers inside of him.

Fuck, his body had never ached for anyone this much, it was absolutely terrifying. Billy clamped one hand over his mouth, the other a vice grip around his prick as he groaned into his fingers, every muscle going taut.

When he came to, there was come running through and between the hairs on his thigh, his cock looked abused if sated, and his chest heaved, little uncontrollable aftershock noises creeping out from between his lips. He searched for a clean hand and fished his mobile out from the edge of the bed. "'M here. Sorry."

.

"Don't apologize," Dom rumbled. He'd listened through Billy's climax, every little stifled sound, every hitched breath, the tell-tale groan from his throat that pealed out to a moan at the end. Aside from satisfying the voyeur in him, the imagery in his head, the very idea that Billy was wanking and coming to thoughts of him, it blew his mind. He put his hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding through his ribcage. "I wish I could have seen that. Sounded amazing."

He pulled the sheets up to his chin, chilled from the sweat on his body in the cold house, and reach down to cradle his cock gently, oversensitive as it softened. Billy's breathing remained heavy, heaving shaky exhales, Dom's own still deep but calming now. He smiled, "Remind me to thank Fran for whatever carrier they've got our mobiles on. They get fantastic reception."

When that didn't get a laugh, he lay petting the hair under his navel. "You alright, Bills?"

.

"Yeah, sorry," Billy answered automatically. He laughed, unable to do much of anything with the growing mess on him. "Hold on a sec." He pulled his knees into his chest and snapped his flannels off from around his ankles, using them to clean up. He laid back with a heavy sigh, the soiled pajama pants bunched up in a ball on his stomach. "'S better," he muttered, pressing the phone closer to his ear.

He breathed, the room slowly coming back into focus. "Dom, I—" He ran a hand through his now mussed hair, shaking his head. Still totally blissed out, nothing but dangerous professions swam around in his head, words like adore and addicted and need, and yes, even the scariest one, that he could barely think let alone say out loud. "You'll be the end of me, you know that?" he said fondly.

Through the receiver, Billy could hear Dom go utterly quiet. He could just see him laying there, listening hard. "You're lovely," he barely whispered, too low for him to even be sure he'd said it at all. 

.

Dom swallowed, his mind patching together a few of those words in an order he didn't know if he was ready for. He squeezed his eyes shut, other words and phrases they'd already spoken tonight and other nights swimming madly around like a wild school of flashy silver fish in his head. They spilled out so easily in the heat of the moment, but now in the quiet they held such enormous weight.

They were both quiet long enough for their breathing to even out, holding the line. Dom regarded his hands, the one he'd licked clean and the other having been places he hadn't even thought of in this context until recently. He breathed a laugh, "Who would be bathing who now, I wonder."

He sank down farther into the blankets, now that the adrenaline was wearing off, growing aware of the ache and the fear of this in his heart, the physical need to be nearer, whether they were satiating carnal instincts or not. Dom couldn't wait for this holiday to end. "What are we doing, Billy?" he whispered such a secret, "I mean, I know what we're doing, but... this is happening so fast."

He squirmed a little, chuckling, "Also, my mum is going to look at me sideways for washing my sheets when I'm on holiday."

.

Billy couldn't find it in his heart to laugh at that last remark; hearing Dom's doubts after going to such a frighteningly honest place was like reliving that night all over again. Fuck. He tossed his flannels over the side of the bed and pulled the sheets back over himself, huffing a breath through his nose. "Dom." His voice sliced into the intensely hushed tones of the past several minutes, startling him.

The words spilled more quickly and carelessly than any of the others he'd let out thus far. "You can't say things like that to me every time we do this." He clenched his eyes and pulled hard at the ends of his hair, working to gentle his voice and calm his nerves. "Sorry. I... I know we said we were going to take things slower. Guess we managed to muck that up even when we're not in the same country," he let out a tight, humorless laugh.

He couldn't believe they were having this conversation before his skin had even begun to cool. Then again, it was starting to look like this was their way. "How do we go back to the beginning, Dom?"

.

"I didn't mean–" Dom shut his mouth and exhaled, scrubbing his hand over his face. He turned over on his side, toward the window. "I don't mean it that way. Christ, Billy."

He lay watching the moonlight dwindle and darken the room, and closed his eyes to all but the connection of Billy down the line, and so many of those phrases floating back: You're lovely. I can't wait to get back. You have me.

"I really like you." He shivered, his voice only breath, "If I was there with you I'd be wrapped around you in my sleep, it's like I want to crawl inside your skin. I just... 's been along time since I've..." he changed tact. "You're amazing. You amaze me, every day."

He heard Billy inhale and waited for his words, but there were none. "Maybe sometimes it'll go fast and sometimes slow. That alright?"

.

Billy let the silence stretch between them, long and wide. This was well on its way to being such a fucking mess, he could see it; or at least, he was well on his way to seriously fucking it up. There was no way he was going to come out of this without a scar to show for it.

He considered a reply but couldn't settle on one. "Christ, when did it get so hard to talk to you?" he lamented. "I told you I'm a pain in the arse when it comes to this." That didn't earn a laugh—or anything else—from Dom. "I'm really scared, Dom. If I told you some of the things I'm feeling for you, you'd... I don't know. I'm afraid of what you'd do."

He glanced over at the bedside table, smirking at the big cold mug of tea and the copy of Return of the King, looking utterly abandoned and sad.

Billy thought of how effortless this was, talking to Dom, before that night, like breathing in and out—that was all. He wondered if they'd get that back. It was easy to pretend, in front of their mates, on set, but alone, like this... Billy sighed. "I want this to be fun, but I can't stop myself from feeling that way about you. I don't know how."

.

Dom opened his mouth and then shut it again, afraid to say anything Billy might take wrong. He wasn't sure what to say that could turn it right either. He was as scared as Billy was.

"I... Can you hang on?" he asked, "Don't hang up, okay? I'm just going to wash up." He waited a beat, though Billy didn't say yes or no. He swung his legs out of the bed and ended up taking the phone with him to the door, opening it to the dark hall and peeking towards the other bedrooms before darting into the bathroom.

Squinting in the bright light, he scrubbed his hands and took a wash cloth to his face and then his bits, thinking all the while. ears trained to the phone on the countertop. Even a muffled sigh confirmed Billy was still there. Tossing the cloth in the hamper, he retreated back to the room and jumped under the covers, shivering now from the cold.

"I know why it's weird being back here, in Manchester," he said back into the phone. "I don't remember this world without you in it. Like there's a piece missing. I keep looking around for it but it's not there."

"Bills," He snuggled back down in under the covers, aware they smelled like sex and him. "I'm scared of what I feel too. That's all I meant by it going fast. We had this conversation before, right? I don't want to stop. I don't want you to stop either."

.

Billy's chest flooded with warmth at Dom's words. He snuggled further under the covers, biting back a ridiculous grin. "Alright." He scritched his nails lightly up and down the side of his stomach, still slightly cool and clammy from before, trying as hard as he could to pretend Dom was right there with him, burrowing into his side with his superhuman warmth. It wasn't difficult; even before this thing had started, Dom had made a habit of cuddling up to him at every opportunity.

"I know what you mean, about feeling like something's missing. I don't think jet lag's the only reason I can't sleep." He sighed, the nerves in his groin still buzzing a bit from before, his bicep still sore. "It's probably for the best, though. I think if we didn't have this break, you'd have broken my manhood by now." He peered under the covers at himself. "You're well on your way as it is. Christ, that was better than it's been in person, for me. Not with you, obviously," he laughed.

.

Dom could feel himself relax at the warmth seeping back into Billy's voice. He laughed at Billy's terminology, "Can you break it? I've had a lot of sex, Bills, but mine's always been up to the task."

Billy was right though, phone sex was never suppose to reach the levels it went to tonight. Dom had a wild imagination, certainly, and he'd surprised himself with the intensity of where he could go with it.

He pushed a hand over his chest, rubbing to settle the tingle of fear still there, even with the thoughts springing into his head, the echo of one particular offer that had thrown him headlong over the edge. "Did you... did you really mean what you said? About when we get back?"

.

And there it was. Billy had the sneaking suspicion that that whole part of tonight's conversation wouldn't just get swept under the rug. He inhaled shakily, his face heating just at the thought. "'Course I did. I wasn't just saying it."

For some reason, there was something forbidden, nasty about letting Dom do that to him. It wasn't that Billy'd never done it before; it just wasn't something he took lightly. He'd denied it to others before. Which is why Dom letting him—for the first time, no less—had meant so much. He'd been so fearless and giving. Billy only hoped he could reciprocate.

Another thought occurred to him: "Did you mean it?"

.

Dom breathed out a huff of air, his jaw hanging just a little as he stared up at the dim plaster. There was casualty in Billy's words, but not in his delivery, and that spoke volumes to the parts of this that scared the pair of them.

He'd been drunk when he'd agreed to it that night. Not out of his mind, but drunk enough of whiskey and lust to have reached that easy place where he'd agree to whatever. That was often how he'd got himself into these situations before with men, kissing and groping with a porno on the telly, or working his cock into some pretty boy's mouth, but he'd been more than aware of himself to not allow it to go any further. He'd imagined many scenarios, in the dark with his own hands exploring the filthiest of his fantasies, always with some faceless man, but when the opportunities presented themselves he'd always chickened out.

Until now. The trust and solidarity he had with Billy was that ingrained – so set already, which scared the hell out of him.

"Yeah, I meant it," he murmured very quietly. "But, I think... that should be a slow time, Billy. I know it wasn't when I let you, but..." he grinned sheepishly, his eyes darting at old memories and regrets, taking a deep breath, "I'm not all residual teenage hormones you know, I can take it slow if I want to."

.

A slow smile crept across Billy's face. "You're more of a romantic than I would've pegged you for, Monaghan." His words were teasing but his tone was sweet.

Billy tried picturing slow with them, languid kisses and gentle, reverent hands. That'd certainly be new; they'd even managed to make a kiss in the park frantic. "That'd be nice, Dom." He bit his lip, suddenly feeling silly. "You'll have to take me to dinner beforehand, though—with a nice bottle of wine and dessert. Otherwise I won't put out. I have my standards."

.

Dom flushed, imagining that with a grin. A real date, at the sort of restaurant Dom was more used to seeing from the kitchen, spending money he'd had to save up for in advance back in the days when he was making silly gestures like that. "I could do that. Just don't let it get around."

He took a deep breath in. Before they'd left Wellington, things had calmed, at least to a rate they could deal with. And so much of it had been at work or with the guys around. There was still a low grade hum to the connection between them, but if he was honest, it had been there for quite some time. Perhaps if they returned and got a little bit of this out of their systems, they could settle into something really satisfying.

"I meant what I said about the rest too. That alright?" He sighed and turned to the side again to whisper, "I wish I could kiss you right now. Just kiss."

.

Billy echoed Dom's sigh. "Me too. Could use some of that internal radiation system of yours right now, too," he shivered, pulling the covers tighter around himself. Despite the cold, Billy felt himself falling closer and closer to sleep with each passing moment. The last thing he wanted to do was get off the phone with Dom, though. The silence that would envelop him after ringing off was too intense to comprehend.

The less sane part of his brain considered how far Glasgow was from Manchester. Would it be too forward to even joke about making a trip there or meeting up in London? Billy hadn't realized he'd have so little here to fill up these two weeks. Maybe he would start keeping a journal, or at least write a song or two. He eyed his acoustic guitar standing in the corner, an old, rather beat up thing that he used as a backup. "I'm pretty sure I'll at least be able to sleep better tonight," Billy whispered. "Are you tired?"

.

"Yeah, now you say it," Dom wriggled under the sheets, his body lazy and sated, "I don't want to hang up."

He considered waking up with Billy, some random morning. He chuckled, remembering how many mornings they'd already woken up in the same bed, typically vacated swiftly to avoid whatever awkwardness would typically arise from that. Now, would they spend days off in bed all day? Would they wake up before the sun for Feet, standing side-by-side in the bathroom brushing their teeth and shaving?

"Hey, have you shaved since you got home?" he asked, testing the back of his hand over the lack of stubble on his cheeks he had since mum made him shave for church. He'd been enjoying not having to up until then.

.

"No," Billy groaned happily, stretching a bit. "'S fantastic. I think I'll let it go the whole two weeks. I'll look like a caveman when I get back." He rubbed his fingers back and forth against his cheek, with and against his stubble, knowing it would be long enough to push his fingers through by the time break was over. "I like having a beard," he mused. "Makes me feel manly."

He wondered how Dom would feel about it. Billy knew his face lent itself so well to that clean-shaven look (Dom had even compared him to Peter Pan on more than one occasion), but he also knew how well he wore facial hair. He'd never gotten a negative response from it from anyone he'd dated in the past, especially not after he went down on them, he thought with a smile. He'd never experienced the pleasurable scratch of scruff against his own thighs, but he could imagine.

Billy tried to picture Dom with a full-on beard, or even just a bit of scruff. It'd probably fit him like a glove, like anything else did, really. "Mum made you shave for church, didn't she?" he suddenly realized, teasing. "I'd love to see you in a suit. Did you take a picture?"

.

"Yes," he said ruefully. "She'll probably make me again, we're supposed to do Christmas photos at some point. I think she's reliving our childhoods for us. I claim the last week for myself though."

He sighed, thinking how swiftly his body had tuned to it that night, the way when their skins were pressed together, the added texture of Billy's chest and belly hair as they moved spiked his nerves even higher. The idea of having him between his thighs with a beard sent a pleasurable shiver through him.

"I want to see you with a beard. I want to feel it in places I wouldn't normally," he confessed with a grin, "Never thought a hairy beast like you would be my type."

.

"And I never thought a man who wears make-up would be mine," Billy smiled, a rush going through him at Dom's words, surprising him. "Christ, you might have me ready to go again in a couple of minutes."

He suddenly remembered a furious wank session he'd had really early on in filming, one of the first nights they all went out together with Dom. He'd slithered into the passenger seat of Billy's car all smoky eyes, insinuating grin, and fitted jeans, and then spent most of the night pounding back tequila shots with one of the lighting guys and grinding against any amenable body. Toward the end of the night, he'd gotten especially touchy, arms around Billy's middle and slurring into his ear about how happy he was to be there and to be hobbits together.

Billy'd barely stumbled into his bedroom that night before he had a finger in his mouth and a hand down his trousers. He hadn't connected it to Dom at the time, but now, looking back on it, the inspiration was unmistakeable. And Billy was sure he wasn't the only one moved by it.

"You really will be the end of me."

.

"Come on, now, we all wear make-up," Dom laughed, "Some of us just do it remarkably well, and not on the clock."

He remembered that night with the twins, how boldly he'd lined his eyes, and the way Billy had done a double-take when he'd picked him up. In fact, he'd looked several times just during the car ride, to a point where he'd not paid enough attention to the road. Light's red, Bills. Oi! I know I'm stunning, but try not to kill us before we get to the pub, eh?

And at the end, he'd run his finger beneath them through the sweat so gently, lovingly. Christ, that night was at the forefront of his brain at all times these days. He certainly didn't want that to be the end of Billy, he hoped it was just the beginning.

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow cheekily, even though Billy couldn't see it, "Not such an old man, then. That would be an impressive recovery time. Shall I test that? I might need such pertinent information for future reference."

.

"'S not the norm, I assure you," Billy laughed. "But then again, neither are you," he said fondly. He yawned and let his eyes fall shut, mind fuzzy and tongue going loose. "You are a dangerous drug."

He stretched his legs, making swishy sounds under the sheets. Dom's words reminded him of the speech he'd given him in the shower that night, words he never thought he'd speak out loud that suddenly came like breathing. The heat started pooling low in his stomach again as he remembered the way Dom's skin looked in the bathroom light as shampoo bubbles chased each other down his back, over his arse, and all the way down his legs to his ankles. Dom had an ego on him, to be sure, but a lot of it was for show. Billy knew he had no idea how beautiful he really was. "'M going to have to really start working out again to keep up. Get bendy like you. Maybe you can help me out with that."

.

Dom gave a low wanting growl at that. "I could sign on for that. I did say I'd get you into yoga someday. Maybe you could get me into running. Help my... ah, stamina."

But hearing Billy's yawn, he let it go when it proved contagious and his eyelids began to feel heavy. He wasn't going to be ready for another round himself any time soon. He glance at the clock again, wincing at how late (early) it was.

He gave a whinge. "Don't want to hang up, but I'm sleepy."

.

"I know," Billy whinged in return, fighting the pull of sleep. "Two weeks'll be up before you know it," he said, assuring Dom as much as himself. "And we can phone each other in the meantime. Send dirty e-mails."

He glanced at the clock and sighed, knowing if he didn't let himself get to sleep soon, he'd get a second wind and then be up the whole night again, now with plenty of new fantasies of when they returned to keep him occupied. Billy pitched his voice soft and sweet, as if they were actually curled up together. "Shall I give you a song and then be off? Any requests?"

.

"Now who's the romantic?" Dom's face stretched wide at how completely that thrilled him.

He remembered the first time Billy had sung for any of them, at Elijah's Thanksgiving party. The mere fact that the guitar arrived at the party with him had everyone buzzing through dinner, and when he'd finally picked it up and sang Flower of Scotland like a right little nationalist bastard, but in quiet, folky celtic tones, everyone was all pleasantries. It wasn't until after, when he'd tossed a purely mischievous look at Dom curled around his beer in the armchair and launched loud and raucously into the Beatles' With A Little Help From My Friends. Dom was quite happily pissed by then and probably had hearts and stars in his eyes. As it was, he'd professed love that day in front of God and everyone, and possibly not in as much jest as it appeared to everyone else.

"Mmm," he hummed playfully, snuggling on his side. "All My Loving?"

Billy was silent on the line, and Dom's heart dropped. "Bill? That too much too soon?"

.

"No no," Billy said quickly. "'M just used to doing that one with other people, harmonizing and all that..." He felt himself going red, somehow more embarrassed at the prospect of singing without Dom there in person. It'd always been much easier for him to perform in a crowded theater than in front of a small group of friends, let alone just one—and one quickly transforming into something much more complex than just a friend.

Billy cleared his throat. "'M bashful all of a sudden," he admitted. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, positioning the phone at his mouth and readying himself. " _Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you, remember I'll always be true,_ " he started, at a much slower tempo than the song ordinarily called for. " _And then while I'm away,_ " he continued, unable to hide the sound of the smile in his voice. He sincerely hadn't realized just how appropriate this song was for them, for this moment, until the words were flowing from the pit of his stomach.

Though he only sang through the first chorus, it felt like a twenty-minute aria, his nerves jumping the whole way through at Dom's undivided, silent attention on the other end. " _All my loving, darling I'll be true._ " He cleared his throat again. "Alright, that's all you're getting out of me tonight."

.

Dom gave that a little whine. Even singing quietly into the phone so as not to wake anyone, Billy could deliver.

He held the line listening to Billy breathe for a minute, simply because speaking would mean ringing off. But that breathing was getting too even and slow, Billy was clearly falling asleep.

"Bills," Dom murmured, things he shouldn't say crossing through his mind before he settled on the lamest but safest of them all, "I really will miss you tomorrow."

.

Between already being half-asleep and Dom's voice coming clear and intimate right in his ear, Billy could almost pretend he was there. "I'll miss you too, love." Just like that night, the endearment fell carelessly from his mouth. This time, though, he was much too tired to even notice, let alone care. "'S time to go now. 'Night."

.

"'Night," Dom breathed, his heart still giving a flip-flop at that catchword. The other end of the line clicked and went to dial tone, abrupt and crass in its finality. He snapped the phone closed and tossed it on the end table in the dark, curling up under the blankets.

That was a hell of a phone call, he thought, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips. Somehow, as proved in past experiences, it was easier to admit to some things over the phone, whether it was ending a relationship or beginning one. Things had come out of his mouth he'd never spoken, from the underbelly of his dirtiest fantasies to exactly how much of a sap he could be, and Billy had taken it all, more or less.

He didn't want to be afraid of this. He wondered if, because Billy was a bloke, it was resonating so much like the intensity of that first love, the one that had risen so far and then crashed like the biggest wave, leaving him flayed completely raw and open at the end.

But they were too far in now. The fear was being consistently outweighed by the promises. He lay imagining being back with Billy, pressing him down on his bed and taking his time kissing and teasing him, being allowed to explore him everywhere. Where in this dream he actually fell asleep, he didn't know, but when he'd heard his father's knock in the morning, he'd pulled the blankets up over his head, never wanting to wake.


End file.
